


Nothing Hurts Like You

by SheWritesDirty



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Billy Hargrove Being Gross, Billy Hargrove Being an Asshole, Blow Jobs in a Car, Domestic Abuse (Neil being Neil), Enemies to Lovers, Frottage, Gay Panic, Hopeful Ending, Internalized Homophobia, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, POV Alternating, Parallels, Pining, Self-Hatred, Snow, eventual warm feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:22:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28062369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheWritesDirty/pseuds/SheWritesDirty
Summary: “Harrington!” Billy’s voice suddenly called out, smug and commanding attention. Heexpectedit, and everyone else stumbled over themselves just to give the guy what he wanted. Steve cringed as soon as he heard it, refused to give him the satisfaction — just kept pushing his way towards the kitchen…Billy was on his heels in an instant, ditching that girl like she was nothing. Slamming open the kitchen door before Steve could shut it on him, pushing in and nearly knocking him over in the process. Something funny curled up in Steve’s stomach, a kind of sick pride over the fact that he was still interesting enough to distract Billy Hargrove from pussy.Problem was, having Billy’s interest was like having a headache... and the rush of satisfaction  was never worth the pain to come.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 31
Kudos: 147
Collections: Harringrove Holiday Exchange 2020





	1. Burning Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [missroserose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missroserose/gifts).



> So I got a little carried away with this prompt. I hope you like it, because it is A BIT LONG IF YOU DON'T;;;

It was snowing. Big, sticky flakes that clung together in the air and drifted down slowly. Steve was sitting in his car, with his headlights on. They cast a warm glow out into the darkness, the light reflecting back off the falling snow. 

There was a party going on, in the house across the street from where he was parked. The infamous rager that Tina threw every year, a few weeks before Christmas break. And Steve _never_ missed it, not going would have been like… sabotaging his own reputation.

But for the first time in his life he was thinking about skipping. Driving off and finding somewhere to spend the night alone. Maybe pick up a six pack and head home to wallow in self pity in his big, empty house... he never would have hesitated like this before, not when he was still ' _King Steve_ ’.

Less than a year and a half ago Steve would have waltzed right in like he owned the place, would have had Tommy and some girl hanging off him in a matter of seconds. Both of them feeding into his ego, building him up. Sometimes it had been kind of hard to tell which of the two were more into him.

Most of the time he’d head off with the girl, get up to things in some quiet part of the house upstairs... but some nights he’d just end up getting totally black out drunk with Tommy. Those times usually ended with Carol dragging the two of them to her car, so she could take them back to Steve’s house to sober up. Because Tommy just couldn't go home like that… and there was no way Carol’s mother would’ve let him stay over.

Luckily Steve’s parents were practically never home, so there had never been a problem with them sleeping it off until morning at his place.

But things were a little different now. 

He’d dropped the crown, only to watch it get picked up by Billy Hargrove — _California_ , the new kid. And yeah, maybe he was still a little bitter about it. Maybe watching Tommy and the rest of the basketball team crowding around him like he was some kind of god made Steve’s stomach twist up just a little.

Jealousy was an emotion Steve had never really gotten to spend this much quality time with before. He always had everything he thought he wanted... never had to watch someone else step into his shoes like that, soak up all the love and respect that used to be for him. 

It all came out in the form of cutting dismissal, he ' _didn’t care_ ’ and said things like ‘ _give it a rest, man_ ’ whenever Hargrove tried to get in his face — tried to show off what he’d won. What he’d taken from Steve… the guy really liked to rub it in his face.

And Steve didn’t even want it back, that was the big joke. He was so damn annoyed about it, and he didn’t even want it. It was more a matter of pride, that someone actually swooped into town and replaced him like that.

Like it was just that easy.

So yeah, Steve had a little fire burning in his gut over that. Had wanted to show up tonight, and prove that he was doing just fine _…_ that he hadn’t turned tail and run. That he was still King Steve, even if all his loyal subjects had skipped out on him.

“ _C’mon man…_ ” Steve muttered to himself, hitting the palms of his hands against his steering wheel, talking himself up. “You got this.”

And then he was out, opening his car door and stepping into the frigid temperatures that December in Hawkins Indiana so graciously brought with it. He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself, tugged his scarf just a little tighter around his face.

Left footprints in fresh fallen snow, all the way up the front yard.

* * *

“You’re here…” 

He was met with Tina’s voice right as he stepped in through the front door, a slight edge of contempt lacing her tone. Steve ignored it, simply winked and fired a couple of finger guns at her. It might have actually been one of the lamest things he’d ever done, and the look of disgust she gave him only served to reinforce that notion.

It was frustrating how completely Nancy had managed to knock him off his game, like feeling so consistently that he was ‘ _not enough_ ’ had drained all the cool out of him. Even more unfortunate was the way he’d never felt more himself than he did now, in the aftermath of Nancy.

So he just kept walking, pushed through the crowd of sweaty and blitzed out teenagers to find the designated coat-dump sofa. Ditched his warm outer layers and tossed them on the pile, startling a little when the pile groaned back at him. Steve lifted a sleeve up, only to find some kid half passed out… opening bleary, red rimmed eyes to glare at him. 

Another unfortunate casualty of Tommy’s legendary hotbox in the basement, if Steve had to guess. At least he knew where to avoid... figured everyone he would rather not see would be down there, getting baked out of their minds.

He made his way back to where the main crowd were gathered, searching for anyone who hadn’t gotten the memo yet. That Steve Harrington was a loser now... that you weren’t supposed to get caught speaking to him. 

Several people he made eye contact with quickly looked away, as if even just locking eyes with him could put their own social standing in jeopardy. _Cowards_ , he thought bitterly, _all of them_. There had to be someone here who had nothing to lose, someone who just didn’t care what other people thought of them...

Steve pulled a face when his gaze landed on none other than Billy Hargrove. 

The guy had one hand pressed into the wall, leaning over some girl and chatting her up… because of _course_ he was. Billy was the only guy who’d managed to earn himself more of a reputation for getting around than Steve even had. 

There was that slick, sharp grin on his face… and the girl caged in by him was smiling right back. All dreamy eyed, like she was blessed that the guy was even giving her a second of his time. That feeling hit Steve again, right in the gut — the spike of jealousy that he could never quite explain.

He chalked it up to annoyance, that girls actually fell for that shit. And to the most incredible dry spell he’d been under, ever since Nancy broke up with him. He tried to ignore the feeling, made his way towards the kitchens… the draw of alcohol, and its promise to make this party even remotely tolerable, pulling him in.

“Harrington!” Billy’s voice suddenly called out, smug and commanding attention. He _expected_ it, and everyone else stumbled over themselves just to give the guy what he wanted. Steve cringed as soon as he heard it, refused to give him the satisfaction — just kept pushing his way towards the kitchen…

Billy was on his heels in an instant, ditching that girl like she was nothing. Slamming open the kitchen door before Steve could shut it on him, pushing in and nearly knocking him over in the process. Something funny curled up in Steve’s stomach, a kind of sick pride over the fact that he was still interesting enough to distract Billy Hargrove from pussy.

Problem was, having Billy’s interest was like having a headache... and the rush of satisfaction was never worth the pain to come.

“Watch it, man!” Steve sniped, grabbing the edge of the kitchen island to steady himself. Billy just grinned at him, manic and wild… something in those sharp blue eyes that suggested to Steve he’d been hitting more than just the keg and Tommy’s sticky-icky tonight.

“You deaf?” Billy’s tone was a mockery of concern. “Maybe you should get your ears checked.” The guy reached out, hand flying to the side of Steve’s face and… he flinched, humiliation flooding him as Billy simply snapped his fingers twice.

His grin just got wider, like it really did something for him. That Steve was _scared_ of him.

“Fuck off.” Steve ground out... pushed Billy’s arm away and made his way to the row of bottles lined up on the kitchen counters, frowning at them. He’d be the first to admit that he was a little spoiled when it came to alcohol, that he was used to stealing top shelf liquor from his father's home bar from as young as fifteen.

The disappointing spread of Fireball, Burnett’s and Everclear had him skipping over and checking the fridge for a beer… at least beer tasted pretty much the same to him, cheap or not. 

“Aww, c’mon now _king_ …” Billy had really taken to calling Steve that, his voice dripping with sarcasm. They both knew it wasn’t true, and the fact that he kept doing it anyway always left Steve with a bitter taste in his mouth. “We’re just having a little fun, aren’t we?”

Steve grunted, ignored him and bent at the waist to reach for a beer in the back of the fridge. Out of the corner of his vision he caught Billy’s fingers curling onto the top of the door, pulling it open just a little for Steve… exhaling in a huff— he sounded frustrated. 

It was painfully obvious that Billy thrived on attention... and Steve was determined to deny him it.

He straightened again and popped the can open, the hiss of compressed air sharp in the muted quiet of the kitchen. Billy pushed the refrigerator door shut harder than necessary, and it rattled harshly as it slammed closed.

“Fun isn’t quite the word I’d use.” Steve finally answered, dismissive as he took a sip of his beer. Billy’s soft baby-blues went sharp, dangerous... locked onto Steve’s own eyes like a warning, a little twist to his lips as he sneered. Billy wanted a rise out of him, and there was something else swimming under all that projected hatred and spite… an almost desperate edge to the guy, like he _needed_ it.

Steve just smiled a little, flicked his gaze over Billy’s tense, coiled muscles, before turning on his heel— turning his back to the danger Billy posed and... searching the room for a quick escape. There was a door that led out to the back porch, and Steve’s hand was on the knob and pushing his way into the chill of winter air. He could hear the thump of Billy’s heavy leather boots following him out.

“Where the fuck you think you’re going?” Billy spat from behind him, as Steve stepped off from the porch and into fresh fallen snow. “ _I wasn’t done with you!_ ” He shouted when he got no response.

Steve wasn’t entirely sure where he _was_ going. For one, it was fucking cold out here, and his coat was still somewhere back in the house… but there was something so satisfying about the way Billy sounded frantic, shouting after him like that. Like he couldn’t _believe_ Steve was actually ignoring him. 

So he figured he could pretend, stay outside for a few minutes before going back in and trying to rub some warmth back into his extremities. Steve lifted his beer to his lips again, stared out into the treeline ahead… a chill running through him that had nothing to do with the cold. It was deathly silent, the quiet of winter almost oppressive in a way. 

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he hadn’t heard any more from Billy... he figured that meant the guy had gone back in. Maybe he was back with that girl again, she probably wouldn’t even stay mad about the fact that he’d ditched her like that. They would _probably_ get right back to it and… why the hell did he seem to care about that so much?

Steve didn’t have a whole lot of time to really think about that question, because suddenly there was the crunching of snow behind him. Firm hands at his back, colliding into him and knocking him forwards. He slipped in the snow, beer foaming up and over as he stumbled, his face smashing into the edge of the can — metal cutting into his upper lip. Blood smeared over his knuckles, when he brought his hand up to wipe away the beer that had spilled all down his chin.

“What the hell?!” Steve yelled, whipping around and throwing the beer can right at the culprit... Billy, of course. He didn’t so much as flinch when it connected with his chest, splashing foamy liquid up and over his shirt before falling uselessly into the snow.

Billy’s eyes were trained on Steve’s bleeding lip, his tongue sweeping out to wet his own… clearly pleased with himself, a smug grin on his face. Like he’d _won_ , gotten Steve’s attention again, gotten him to drop that careful facade of calm and collected.

“What’s your problem?!” Steve shouted again, when Billy didn’t say anything. He lurched through the snow to shove back at Billy, the heels of his palm connecting with solid collarbone. Then they were scuffling, Billy grabbing at the cold skin of Steve’s bare arms, nails digging in as he pulled Steve close rather than pushing him away.

“Thought I was making it pretty clear.” Billy snarled back, spit flecking out and hitting Steve in the cheek. It had him grimacing, wanting to scrub away at his skin with the hem of his sleeve. “But I _can_ spell it out for you.”

“Let go of me, man.” Steve hated the way he sounded nervous… the way he struggled in Billy’s grip. His feet slipping on damp snow, skidding under him, totally useless in finding any traction.

“You.” Billy spoke slowly, his breath warm on Steve’s face. “You’re my problem.”

“Yeah I get it... you hate me for—” Steve managed to get an arm free from Billy’s grip and used it to push at his chest, nearly sending both of them toppling over in the snow. “For no _reason!_ ” Steve yelled, his frustration crackling around the words.

Billy looked ready to say something more, about to elaborate on exactly why he hated Steve, probably. Or maybe he was just ready to punch Steve right in the face, judging from the way his now free hand was coiled into a tight fist at his side.

But before either could happen, there was a sound from the woods to their left and… Billy’s head turned, stared out into the treeline. Steve’s blood ran cold and he stilled in Billy’s grip — it could have been _anything_ , he quickly reasoned with himself.

“We— we should go back in.” Steve said, his voice suddenly shaky. Thoughts of flower faced monsters with far too many teeth, and trees all rotted out with doorways to another dimension inside them… nightmares he’d both seen and heard stories of now. Billy turned his head back and seemed to take in Steve’s wide eyes, the tension in his body. 

Then Billy laughed, and it was different than his usual gloating — had none of the manic edge to it that Steve was familiar with. Instead it was soft, incredulous… “The hell has you so spooked?” He asked, voice low like he wasn’t even expecting an answer.

“Could be a bear or… something.” Steve quickly explained, his gaze flicking from the tree line to Billy’s skeptical expression.

They heard the sound again, and Steve strained to listen closer… still not quite able to put his finger on what it was. Billy grinned huge, all sharp teeth and reckless abandon. “Yeah? Let's go find out.” Then he’d released Steve’s arm, and was heading off towards the woods. 

“ _Billy…!_ ” Steve hissed the name sharply, as if there were a chance the guy might actually listen to him and stop. The mental image of Billy walking straight into one of those monsters was already swirling in his head… the guy was so completely unprepared for what was out there. “Stop— just, leave it!” Steve tried again when Billy ignored him, still strolling casually up to the treeline.

Billy turned, kept walking backwards as he gave Steve a raised brow. “What, is our famous King of Hawkins scared of a little nature walk?”

And yeah, Steve could leave him. Let him stroll blindly into the arms of danger... there was no arguing that the guy fucking _deserved_ it. But Billy’s form was disappearing into the dark of the woods now, and Steve's throat was dry, he felt nauseous. And his feet were moving, leaving twin footprints in the snow, right alongside the deep tread of Billy’s leather boots.

It didn’t take long for Steve to regret not keeping his jacket on him, wrapping his arms around himself and trying to keep warm as he stumbled into the forest. He’d already lost sight of Billy in the dark, which was just _perfect._ But he could hear those heavy footsteps ahead in the snow, the strange warble of sound from whatever it was that they were looking for… and he knew to follow it.

Even more than his jacket, he missed his bat… the comforting weight of it in his palm, the solid promise of protection it offered. He scanned the floor for a fallen branch, or _anything_ that might have come in handy _._ But the snowfall had covered the ground with a thick, powdery layer — and he wasn’t about to lose time digging for a weapon.

He cursed quietly, thinking that this was just the sort of thing that happened to him now… that he would find himself in the middle of the woods at night, with someone like Billy Hargrove for his only ally. Steve closed his eyes for only a moment, sent a silent prayer to whoever the fuck was listening that he get through this night in one piece…

Then he was running straight into something solid, a tiny sound of shock slipping out of him as his eyes flew back open. Hands were grabbing him and pushing him forwards… a hissed command to be quiet, warm breath hitting the shell of his ear and making him shudder.

They’d caught up to the source of the noise and Billy had stopped dead in his tracks, Steve quickly put together that he'd run right into the back of him. Now the guy was manhandling him to the front and — pointed Steve in the right direction. He narrowed his eyes, peered into the clearing ahead of them. A bitter laugh bubbled up Steve’s throat and Billy’s palm slapped over his mouth to quiet him. Steve’s lips brushed against dry, rough skin as he made an attempt to protest.

“Shhh.” Billy hushed him again, softer this time. Steve stilled, Billy’s body was pressed firmly against his back, strong arms braced over the front of him, holding him in place to watch.

It hadn’t been the horror Steve imagined... no Demogorgon in the woods, waiting to tear them to pieces. Just a couple classmates skipping out to do what a few beers and a party like Tina’s helped encourage. He recognized them, a guy from their basketball team, leaning against a tree. And a girl Steve had personally been well acquainted with once, on her knees in the snow.

Neither of them realized they had an audience, Billy and Steve's intruding form effectively hidden by the shadow of looming trees, the surrounding bushes. Steve’s breath caught in his throat as the guy moaned, and the hand over his mouth tightened. The sound of their classmates getting off was loud in the silence around them… silence cut by nothing else besides the the low, even breathing of Billy behind him.

Billy was radiating heat, a warmth that Steve's own chilled body unconsciously craved. He melted into it, leaning back and… there was something hard, pressing into his thigh. He told himself it was Billy’s lighter, that he probably carried his zippo in his front pocket or… or something.

Of course, it felt a lot bigger than a lighter… and that excuse held a lot less water when he considered the way his own dick was reacting to the scene playing out in front of them. Filling out, straining painfully against the tight confines of his jeans.

It was… _surreal_.

Steve had watched porn with friends before, it was practically the only thing Tommy could think to do when he was wasted. But Billy wasn’t even _close_ to being a friend and… Steve couldn’t seem to keep his focus where it should have been.

He was instead, tuned in to the rise and fall of Billy’s chest... the hot breath at the back of his neck, the way his hair was ruffled lightly by it. All too aware of the tension in both of their bodies, a little shock of pleasure running through him every time Billy shifted. Something that Steve tried to blame it on the fact that... it’d been a while since anyone had really touched him.

Which wasn’t exactly true, now that he really thought about it... Billy was always getting his hands on Steve.

During basketball practice it was almost like the guy was trying to climb _inside_ him — trying to get under his skin, to leave the trace of his touch all over Steve’s body... a lingering heat that burned like a brand.

It had been confusing... _annoying_ , really. Billy was like that kid who just kept pestering someone, when all anyone really wanted was for him to fuck right off. But it was something else too, something that prickled at the back of Steve’s mind when he tried to sleep at night.

Like maybe it wasn’t _just_ about getting under Steve’s skin. He hated the way that thought hung in his head all day, the way his nerves lit up at every brush of Billy’s fingers — at the knock of those solid hips against his own. The muscle of Billy’s thighs rubbing against his ass as the guy got right up behind Steve… and that was usually the point where Billy stole the ball and spun away to make a basket on him.

Now though... without the excuse of a game to blame for the contact, it was like everything had gotten ten times worse, and arousal sparked between them like a live wire. He knew Billy was watching the girl, he probably forgot Steve was even _here_ … but all that Steve could focus on was the firm line of Billy’s body pressed against him.

And the feeling of Billy’s fingers carefully curled around his cheek, thumb resting along the side of his nose. Steve let his lips part slightly, panting warm breath into Billy’s palm. The sounds ahead of them seemed to grow more and more rushed, and his vision went a little hazy with it… he desperately tried to remember that girl's name, _anything_ to distract him.

The guy in front of them was moaning and — his hips were jerking, thrusting into her mouth and… Steve’s hips jerked too, a mindless reaction he just couldn’t help. Billy rocked against him, followed the movement, that firm pressure slipping from the back of Steve’s thigh until it was pressing against his ass and… Billy _groaned_ , the sound of it rising up from deep in his chest. His forehead dropped to push against Steve’s shoulder, his grip tightening.

Steve realized that was _definitely_ Billy’s dick… rock fucking hard and rubbing against his ass — like maybe Billy was two seconds away from outright humping him. And Steve’s mind was all sorts of fucked up by that, he couldn’t sort his thoughts out... but he liked it, he _knew_ he liked it. He was leaking in his jeans and he’d almost forgotten about the couple in front of them altogether, realizing suddenly that they were done. That the guy zipping himself back into his jeans and... it should have meant things were over but.

But Billy was still hard against him and Steve _needed_ something...

He needed to get away before he made an idiot of himself, he concluded. Before Billy caught on to the fact that Steve was interested in more than just some girl from their school putting on a show for them.

Steve frantically pushed at Billy’s arm, surprised by how easily his grip loosened — stumbling forward and nearly falling right over his own two feet into the snow. He whipped around and... Billy looked like he was gonna say something, words perched on the tip of his tongue... but Steve didn’t stay long enough to hear them. He shoved past the guy, accidentally checking him with his shoulder as he went, and hurried back the way they’d come.

Left Billy just standing there, watching him as he ran. 

* * *

By the time Steve made it back inside Tina’s house his limbs felt a little numb… he tried to bring some life back into them by rubbing at them, but it didn’t seem to be doing much. It was like he was burning up, the sudden temperature change messing with him and tricking him into thinking he was too hot. He wound up grabbing one of the half empty bottles of alcohol from the counter and staggered out of the kitchen with it clenched in his hand.

The party was still in full swing, his peers blissfully ignorant of anything that had gone on between him and Billy. If they’d caught the earlier fight, they probably would have cheered the whole thing on... and Billy would never have gotten distracted by that sound in the woods, never would have — things wouldn’t have gotten _messy_ like they did.

Steve climbed the stairs, needed to escape the stifling atmosphere of the party. The thick humidity hanging in the air, the sharp, underlying scent of unwashed teenagers. He searched the hall for a bathroom, finally finding one and stumbling inside...

Kicked the door shut and fell to the tiles, leaned his head against the cool porcelain of the toilet bowl. Took a sip of the alcohol he’d swiped, winced at the sting as the cut on his lip split open again… tasted the mix of cheap whiskey and blood on his tongue, shivered at the warmth it sent flooding through him as he swallowed it down. 

Waited there, for his erection to go down… for his head to stop swirling with thoughts of Billy.


	2. Sick Thoughts

The Camaro was the only place Billy got any damn peace — it wasn’t like he could've gone home for that. Besides, he wanted to put off uncorking that bottled up rage that Neil had been building on for the past week, just waiting for a chance to let it all go... for Billy to so much as _breathe_ wrong.

So he drove out to Lover’s Lake and parked, his headlights burning bright across the frozen over body of water. Hands on the wheel, gripping tight as he watched the snowfall drifting down. Another thing to add to the ever expanding list of why Hawkins was a miserable shithole — one that he was desperate to escape.

Snow just meant he was cold all the fuckin’ time, his jacket doing nothing to stave off the chill in the air. It meant shoveling the driveway for Neil, a bruised rib aching as he threw heavy slush over his shoulder. His reward for asking for proper gloves, because the leather cut-off ones he had left the tips of his fingers numb by the time he was done… prickling with pins and needles as he tried to warm them between his knees.

A strange parallel to now, in the heat of his Camaro... where his hands felt like they were burning. Itching to move — almost like they had a mind of their own. He released the iron-like grip he’d had on the steering wheel and moved to palm at the front of his jeans. He couldn’t stop thinking about Steve, or the feeling of those ridiculously soft lips brushing against his hand.

Or of his entire body pressed against Billy’s, the way he’d struggled… just before stilling, giving himself over to it. Billy was instantly hard again at the memory, knowing that Steve had felt it too at the time — that he’d felt Billy’s length jutting firmly into the back of his thigh.

He could play it off easy, act like it was all to do with the scene that went down in front of them… the sounds that bitch made as she choked on some sad-fuck’s excuse for a cock.

But _he_ knew the truth, that it was about Steve… about his body, and his lips and — it had been about Steve for a while. Billy had tried to fight it tooth and nail, masked what he really wanted with hate and posturing and none of it _worked_.

He still had all the same sick thoughts swirling relentlessly in his head, and Steve would just give him that wry little smile. Like he knew Billy’s game… like he knew how bad Billy craved any scrap of attention that the guy was willing to throw his way. That the title of King didn’t mean shit, if Billy wanted to drop to his knees and crawl for the one he’d taken the crown from…

He groaned at the thought of it, rolling his hips against the heavy pressure of his hand. It wasn’t enough, had him hurrying to flick open the button on his jeans... tugging on the zipper and hastily spitting into his palm, shoving it unceremoniously down his pants.

Billy got a firm grip on himself, lips parting around a moan on the first jerky stroke. He had to be so damn _quiet_ at home... didn’t get to let go like this very often. Didn’t get the kind of inspiration that having Steve Harrington’s ass pressed all up against his dick brought very often, either.

And fuck if that wasn’t some damn fine inspiration. He thumbed at the head of his cock, smeared around the little bead of precum that was welling up at the slit. Worked his fist down the length and squeezed at the base, gritting his teeth at the scrape of the zipper against his knuckles.

His mind wandered to the split lip he’d given Steve, the blood that had stained them bright red. Like maybe if Billy tried hard enough he could pretend they belonged to a girl. That he wasn’t so absolutely fucked in the head that the only thing that really got him going was... the thought of another man’s lips stretched around his cock.

Steve’s lips, if he was going to get specific.

Billy screwed his eyes shut and threw his head back, grunted as he bumped into the firm leather headrest. Pictured Steve choking on it like that bitch had, gagging around him… he picked up the pace, his fist sliding easily over his cock, slick with spit and precum. 

He just wanted to wreck that pretty little face. Wanted to pull out right as he finished, to watch the flinch that Steve wouldn't be able to hold back as Billy’s cum hit his cheek. The slow lift of his eyelids as he stared defiantly up at Billy… tongue flicking out to clean it off his lips.

Billy’s grip tightened almost painfully, his muscles seizing up. Hunching over as a little tremor ran through him... and then he was _gone_. A choked moan tearing out of him, too loud in the cramped space of the Camaro. His hips jerked as the first spurt of cum hit his chin, the second making a mess down the front of his shirt. The flushed tip of his cock pushed between his thumb and forefinger as he gave himself one more pump, coaxed a final dribble out to run over his knuckles.

Then it _hurt_ , and he was releasing himself with a pained hiss. Letting his spent dick flop over and lay heavy against his thigh. He was sweaty, breathing hard, heart pounding as he stared into the fogged over windshield. The Camaro was oppressively hot now, and the close quarters that he normally felt comforted by were suddenly _too_ close… 

He could feel cum tickling against his skin as it rolled down his chin. He swiped at it with the back of his hand and stared at that instead. Temptation was something Billy had never quite been able to conquer. It felt like it was looming over him always, the moment he was gonna slip up. That he was gonna lose his cool around Steve, and every wall he'd tried to build up between him and Hawkins would come crumbling down.

Billy leaned forward, let the flat of his tongue swipe out over the back of his hand… cleaned his shame away, before grabbing his shirt and sucking it out of the fabric. It felt like a new low, a pit he’d climbed down into willingly.

Would do it all over again, too. 

_Fuck_ , it was too damn hot. And that intense feeling that always hit him after he jerked off to a guy was building up… hands shaking, stomach swirling — never quite sure if he was about to pass out or puke up his guts. His throat was dry, and the taste of cum still lingered on his tongue.

And he couldn’t stop his heel from bouncing, a frantic sort of energy that he just had to get out. He fumbled for the door handle, cursing and spitting when his fingers didn't seem to want to obey him, slipping over the smooth surface... And then he got a grip on it, and he was pushing the door open, stumbling out into the snow.

Cold air hit him like a rush, all the more frigid as it met with his sweaty, overheated skin. His legs were taking him to the edge of the lake, his mind empty — acting on instinct. He didn’t even seem to know what he was really doing until he was halfway out into the lake… frozen water stretching out around him, the headlights of his Camaro blinding him when he turned back to look the way he’d come.

The chill really hit him then, and he pulled his jacket tighter around himself. Threw his head back and stared up into the night sky… pine trees looming overhead, like dark spikes cutting through the edge of his vision. Stars shone down at him, twinkling softly… almost like they were winking — like his life was one massive, cosmic joke.

“ _Fuck you!_ ” Billy screamed, his voice straining. “You _made_ me like this!” his lungs burned with it, burned on the cold and the sharp edges of his words as he forced them out. He didn’t even know who he was blaming, God or Neil.

Then he was falling down to his knees, wincing a little as pain shot up through him from the impact. Aimed a solid punch at the ice, scraping his knuckles, blood smearing over the surface and… a crack — haunting as it filled the quiet night air around him. A thin break in the ice snaking out from where he’d hit. Billy paused then, the reality of his situation suddenly hitting him. 

He was staring into his own reflection, ice cracked through it — splitting him in half, all the pain and hatred captured in his own face staring back up at him. Then he was stumbling to his feet again, slipping over ice as he made his way back to the car. Now that the rush of adrenaline had gone, he could barely keep himself upright.

Billy realized how damn _freezing_ he was as soon as he got back to the car… shivering as he pulled the door open, sliding back into the warmth of the cabin and reaching over to turn the heater up. His fingers were trembling, his teeth chattering, it felt a little like he was going to shake to pieces.

“Fuck… _fuck_.” He muttered, pulling his hand back and inspecting the broken skin on his knuckles. Pictured the blood on Steve’s lips again, blood he’d put there… he deserved everything was gonna get when he pulled into Neil’s driveway, an hour past curfew. 

He keyed the engine on and drove home into the welcoming arms of karma.

* * *

Billy skipped class the next morning. Dropped Maxine off like he always did, before peeling out of the parking lot and blowing right by the High school. He had an aching bruise under his jaw, the skin already turning a mottled purple.

He didn’t feel like having to come up with some convincing story about a fight he hadn’t actually gotten into, just to keep the guys from asking too many questions. Didn’t feel like listening to their jeering, their talk of ‘ _bet the other guy got it way worse_ ’.

Instead, he drove the thirty miles to the next town over just to stop at a drugstore where no one would recognize him. Bought himself a pack of Marlboro's and a concealer that was thick enough to get the job done. Muttered something about it being for his sister when the checkout clerk gave him a funny look — like it was any of their fuckin’ business.

He hated small towns.

By the time he’d made it back to the Camaro he felt tense. Dropped heavily into his seat, traded his brand new pack of cigarettes for the slightly crumpled one resting in his center console. There were two left, only slightly bent from being in his jacket pocket last night.

He grabbed both of them, tucking one behind his ear for safe keeping, and the other between his lips. He tossed the empty pack into the back seat. Thinking about last night made him feel sick, had him fighting the urge to get right back out of the car and throw up all the food Susan had guiltily cooked for him this morning.

Like what he really needed was a balanced breakfast, not someone to step in and... he interrupted that train of thought quick, because he _didn’t_ , he could handle his own shit anyway. Lit up his smoke and keyed the engine on, turned up the tape deck’s volume until it was earsplitting. The drive back to Hawkins was all empty corn fields and pastures. At least it didn’t smell as much like cow shit in the winter as it did in the summer.

Made it easier to roll his window down as he howled along with Ride the Lightning… let it play out, flipped around to the b-sides — because it was just that fucking good. By the time he’d made it back into town he’d already missed half the school day, probably wasn’t even worth it to show up now.

Still, he found himself idling in the parking lot... it wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go. Ride the Lightning was switched out for a new tape, a mix of things he’d recorded from the radio. Volume turned low… more background noise now than anything else. He had his mirror down, and was dabbing carefully at the bruise on his jaw — covering it up as best he could with what he’d bought.

He used to just swipe the stuff from Susan, but she’d started to notice. She’d blamed Maxine at the time and… Maxine had kicked up one hell of a fuss about it. And when the brat acted out, Neil had a bad day, and that didn’t exactly bode well for Billy.

So he stopped taking Susan’s shit.

The bruise covered up good enough, and he pulled open his glove box to hide the little tin for later. Leaned back and closed his eyes… figured he could at least relax until lunch period was over.

He thought of California, of the warmth on his skin and salt in the air. The surfboard Neil had made him sell for the gas money to drive to Hawkins. The freedom he’d had out there — how he could simply walk out to the beach and just…. be there until sunset, with the ocean breeze in his curls.

If he tried hard enough, he could almost _smell_ it.

Then there was a knock on glass and Billy snapped to attention. Jerked up in his seat, eyes flying open to glare out the window at the offender. Steve Harrington — _of all fucking people —_ was bent over and staring into the car, getting his hand on the door handle and pulling it open… sliding into the passenger seat like that was all fine and dandy.

Like he just _did_ shit like that, the guy stepped into Billy’s car like he belonged there. 

“Who the fuck invited you?” Billy snapped, giving Steve the most unwelcoming look he could muster up. Maybe the guy had forgotten where they stood and needed a reminder, he wasn’t exactly the brightest bulb in the box.

Steve had this frown etched onto his face as he looked over at Billy. “You’re okay.” He pointed out, sounding almost annoyed by that. 

And like, _why the hell wouldn’t he be okay?_ Billy wondered. His palms were suddenly sweaty and he wiped them off on the thigh of his jeans, got that nervous kick in his gut when he thought someone might actually know something about his situation with Neil.

He pushed the feeling down, Steve didn’t know _shit_.

“Never been better.” Billy said with mock ease… sliding back into his seat like he was comfortable. As if having Steve sitting shotgun to him didn’t set every single one of his nerves on edge. “...The hell did you expect?” He went on to ask. Because he couldn’t help himself, he was still curious what could have convinced Steve that it was a good idea to actually get into his car like that.

Steve just let his head roll to the side, looked Billy up and down as if he was attempting to verify the claim that Billy had ‘ _never been better_ ’. 

He felt laid bare under that gaze, shifted uncomfortably… wondered if he did a good enough job concealing the bruise on his jaw. Wondered if Steve could somehow smell the stink of shame still clinging to him from last night. 

The silence stretched on until Billy was actually considering his only two options left; completely bail on the situation, and leave Steve confused in and alone in the passenger side. Or punch the stupid idiot right in his pretty face.

And he really didn’t want to think what might happen if he left Steve alone in his car.

But before Billy could actually punch him, Steve finally spoke. “I just… I left you in the woods, and then you weren’t here this morning.” There was something funny to his voice as he said it, something vulnerable — shaky. 

And Billy couldn’t for the life of him figure out _why_ … but whatever it was it had Steve Harrington sitting across from him in his Camaro, so it couldn’t have been a good thing. “Where were you?” He pressed, when Billy didn’t say anything.

“Took a joy ride.” Billy offered casually, plastering a fake grin on his face. Grabbed his brand new package of Marlboro's and tore it open, hitting the bottom against the heel of his palm to knock one free. 

Steve just rolled his eyes, watched as Billy fumbled in his pocket for a lighter… brought the cigarette to his lips and flicked the little metal lid open. He could _feel_ Steve’s eyes on him, and he pulled in short breaths until the flame finally caught.

Took a long drag… closing his eyes as the smoke hit his lungs, a little of the tension he’d been holding since Steve got into his car finally melting away.

He didn’t know how to act, didn’t know what to do with the fact that Steve had willingly approached him like this. Shit like that gave him _ideas_ , the sort of things that he’d spent every day since arriving in Hawkins convincing himself would never happen.

There was a rustling, and Billy opened one eyelid halfway to watch as Steve helped himself to one of Billy’s cigarettes, setting the packet back where he’d got it when he was done. “Fuck you think you’re doing?” Billy demanded, smoke furling out of his nose as he huffed.

“Well, you weren’t gonna offer me one.” Steve said simply, placing the cigarette between his lips. Billy couldn’t help but lick out over his own, like a conditioned response… he had barely any control over the shit he did where Steve was concerned. 

Steve just raised a brow and held his hand out, palm face up. Fingers relaxed, waiting. “Light.” So used to getting what he wanted, like he just expected it.

Billy gave a sharp grin, closed his eyes again and ignored him. Pleased to know his lighter was well and safe in his jacket pocket, that even if he’d let Steve get away with pilfering one of his smokes — the guy wasn’t actually gonna be able to enjoy it.

Then the leather seat to his right creaked, and Billy frowned. Even with his eyes closed, he could _feel_ Steve getting close… could feel the weight of the car shift, Steve leaning forward and — a hand, on his cheek, guiding his face over until... he opened his eyes to find Steve staring right back at him.

He’d angled forward, hovering close so that the ends of their cigarettes were touching... and he was puffing lightly, trying to get the flame to catch. Billy swallowed, his mouth felt dry, eyes wide, trained on those soft brown lashes, the way they fanned over pale cheeks as Steve focused his own gaze on the end of his cigarette…

And then it lit and, his eyes flicked back up — caught Billy’s for a moment, before sliding down to where his hand was resting. Steve moved his thumb, back and forth… too gentle. And Billy’s heart felt like it was in his throat.

“How did you get hurt?” Steve asked, concern splashed over his face like some kind of sick joke. Billy flinched, pulled back and shoved at Steve until he fell back into the passenger seat.

“ _Get out_.”

“What?” Steve looked confused. Those deep brown eyes blown wide, cigarette hanging limply between slightly parted lips.

“Get the _fuck_ out!” Billy repeated sharply, leaning over Steve and grabbing the passenger side door handle and pushing it open.

“Wait- Billy, _wait_ _!_ ” Steve’s voice squeaked around his protests, nails scrabbling against Billy’s arms as he fisted a hand into Steve’s shirt and shoved him _hard_. Sent the guy tumbling out of the car, straight onto his ass. “ _Ow —_ what the hell, man?!” 

Steve’s legs were still tangled up and hanging over the edge of his leather seats, so Billy pushed at them until Steve was yanking them back… rolling over onto his side and getting up to his knees, right as Billy was slamming the door shut.

He could hear Steve yelling, something about how Billy was a complete ‘ _fucking asshole_ ’ and he needed to learn to ‘ _cool his jets_ ’ the sound of his voice muffled by layers of steel and glass. Billy just rolled his eyes and pulled his mirror down… inspected his chin, and the bit of concealer Steve’s thumb had smudged away — the tender bruise peeking through.

Billy had already missed half his classes, so what the hell did it matter if he went for a clean sweep?

He pulled out of the parking lot, tires squealing as he revved the engine and drove. Left Steve sitting on his ass on the pavement, looking completely bewildered.


	3. Losing Control

Steve woke covered in sweat, sheets twisted around his ankles and up his legs… it was barely even morning, pale light filtering in through his window. An overwhelming silence in the house, nothing besides the soft huffing of his own breath as his chest rose and fell.

There was a sticky sensation in his underwear and— it wasn’t like it was the first time he’d woken up like that... but usually he’d be dreaming about Becky with her massive tits. She’d filled out before any of the other girls at school had and, well... it’d been a lot for the guys to handle.

This morning he’d woken himself up to a dream of _Billy_. 

Those sharp blue eyes gone uncharacteristically soft, dirty blonde hair curling around Steve’s fingertips and… he was smiling, sliding down Steve’s body. And the mouth that so often had Steve bristling, forced him to defend himself — was instead biting little marks into his skin, all the way down his chest, teeth scraping over each of his ribs… 

Pausing to lick over the sharp jut of his hip bone, before drifting lower. Then Billy was kissing along the hard line of Steve’s cock and... it’d had him so keyed up, unconsciously grinding his hips into his mattress until he’d cum. Only to wake up in a state of shock, rolling over and staring up at the ceiling, trying to put the pieces together… _What the hell was happening to him_? 

With a groan he’d shuffled out of bed, grumbled even louder when he spotted the red glowing digits of his alarm clock. Six fifteen, way too early to be up on a weekend. He ignored the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and dragged himself to the bathroom, grabbing a fresh set of clothes as he went. 

Billy was an asshole, he didn’t even like the guy… and, more importantly, he _was_ a guy. 

Steve stopped for a moment to stare at his own harrowed expression looking back at him from the mirror, before peeling off his sticky sweatpants and underwear… grimacing at the mess and tossing them into a corner of the bathroom to be dealt with later.

Billy had been on his mind too much lately, he reasoned. And dreams were supposedly just… a mashup of whatever someone was thinking about all day. And Steve couldn’t stop thinking about Billy so… yeah, that was all this was.

That little pep-talk he gave himself would have been a bit more convincing if he hadn’t been having similar thoughts in his waking hours. Thoughts of Billy’s hands on his skin, the rough slide of them… of Billy getting in Steve’s space in that way he used to, all bravado and sharp smiles that seemed to imply some sort of secret between them.

Of Billy whispering things in his ear, what he wanted to do to Steve… something the _real_ Billy would never do. The guy hated Steve, now more than ever. All because Steve had seen something he wasn't supposed to. If it hadn’t been obvious from the way Billy had reacted back in the Camaro… he would have figured it out with the way the guy started treating him afterwards.

It was kind of impressive, Steve hadn’t thought that Billy could actually get _worse_. That the occasional elbow to his gut during practice was actually just Billy going easy. That the shit talking in the showers he’d always had to endure was just a little friendly banter, compared to what he was getting now.

Pure, unadulterated _hatred —_ if Steve had to put a name to it.

Billy went from trying to initiate contact every second he got, to sneering when Steve got too close. Landing a warning blow to his stomach hard enough to wind him, to leave him fighting off a dry heave. Every touch had a clear, resounding message. _Back off_. 

The whole display had the coach sending Billy to the showers early, telling him to go ‘cool off’. And all Steve had left was an ache in his gut that wouldn’t quite quit, a constant reminder that Billy could put him in his place real easy whenever he wanted to. 

Steve got the feeling that he might just… freeze up and roll over, in that situation. Like maybe he’d just give in and let Billy do whatever he wanted and that... it shouldn’t have _excited_ him, but it did. He’d been deluding himself before, entertaining the idea that he could actually take Billy in a fight. That he would be able hold his own, in the face of all that raw aggression and practiced cruelty. 

Even Tommy had started to look at Billy funny when the guy went off, flipped a switch from joining in on the dog-pile to actually trying to reel Billy back a bit. Which was fucked up, because it made Steve kind of miss Tommy. And he really didn’t have the mental space to deal with that kind of thinking right now.

Because he was focused on trying to deal with his sudden interest in Billy Fucking Hargrove and… how that just wasn’t him, none of this was him. It all had him a little light headed, had him reminding himself to just...look at girls. He fucking loved girls, he _wanted_ girls… he’d never had any problems with knowing exactly what he needed before.

Except... thinking about girls had him thinking about Billy chatting that girl up at the party, and the way she smiled up at him. His ridiculous biceps caging her in and— and yeah, Steve kind of got the appeal of that now. 

He was so fucked...

And he would have just made an effort to avoid Billy, he _should_ have been doing that... but there was something else itching at the back of his mind. Another insistent, needling thought, that just wouldn’t give up no matter how much energy he put into ignoring it.

That bruise and... Billy’s reaction to Steve finding it. The _overreaction,_ like he’d flipped a switch and gone from almost— they were _almost_ getting along. And it all went up in flames in an instant, all because Steve had uncovered something he wasn’t supposed to.

But Billy always had bruises... Steve had spotted them on his lower back, his arms — after practice in the showers. He’d chalked it up to Billy’s over-aggressive play style, to the fact that he’d only been in Hawkins for less than a year, and he’d already managed to earn himself a reputation as the kind of guy who got properly fucked up at a party. Made a habit out of getting into fights, too. And when he wasn’t fighting, he was drunkenly stumbling into furniture often enough for things to check out.

So, it wasn’t like Steve had stopped to think about any of it before. He just figured it was par for the course when someone lived life like it was a never ending cyclone of good times, and always needed to be in the eye of the storm.

Now all he could _do_ was think about it... to the point where he found himself brushing his teeth for a good six minutes. Staring at himself in the mirror, feeling so completely lost.

* * *

Steve’s parents had arrived back home in a flurry of activity, less than a week before Christmas. And it was like his life suddenly went from empty and lonely to _too much_ in the span of minutes. His mother had spent the last few days bringing boxes up from the basement, and employing Steve’s assistance in putting decorations up.

Fake plastic garland went up on the banister, soft red stockings on the mantle, a dubious cluster of mistletoe hung from the exposed beam between the living room and entryway — his mother grabbing him and leaving a wet smooch on his cheek as soon as they’d finished putting it up.

And then today, _all day_... had been her pestering his father to go get them a Christmas tree, followed by his resolute denial. 

“You can take Stevie dear, it will be good for you two.” She had pressed, winking over her coffee cup at Steve when he’d shuffled into the kitchen. He felt instantly embarrassed by that, hated the way she liked to hint at the fact that she knew he wished that his father would spend more time with him.

“We’re only here until the New Year, and you’ll just forget to water it.” Mr. Harrington pointed out as he sipped from his own mug, never bothering so much as to glance up from the book he was reading. “It’s a waste of money.”

Steve had just gotten himself some cereal and hurried out of there fast, his mother glaring at his father the whole time — he _knew_ a fight was brewing, there had been tension between them ever since they’d come back from Chicago. So he was gonna have to find somewhere else to be that night… didn’t wanna hang around to experience the blow up.

Lucky for him, people had been talking about another party out on Maple, and Steve was familiar with the house. He’d been there countless times before, despite never quite knowing who the hell actually lived there. It wasn’t gonna be on the same level as Tina’s but... it was an excuse to get black out drunk before the holidays, so there wasn’t much trouble getting people to show up. 

As soon as the sun went down, Steve was getting ready to go out — fixing his hair and digging out one of his favorite shirts. He kept telling himself there wasn’t any real reason as to why he was putting a little more effort in than he might have before… it definitely didn’t have anything to do with the fact that there was no way Billy Hargrove was gonna miss out on his last chance to party before the break.

On his way out of the house, his mother caught his arm. Told him to ‘ _have fun_ ’ and, ‘ _not to stay out too late_ ’ and… that she wanted to know what had been going on in his life, while they’d been gone. That they were going to sit down and talk about things, and that she loved him…

Steve felt like squirming away as she pressed a kiss to his cheek before finally releasing him, waving him off as he scrambled out the door.

It wasn’t like he could actually tell her… that he’d lost all his friends, lost his girlfriend. That he’d fought monsters now, that he had a bat hammered through with nails under his bed... because it made him feel safe enough to actually _sleep_ for a few hours every night.

* * *

  
  


Steve had been at this party for the better half of the night and he still hadn’t so much as caught a single glimpse of Billy. He might have started to think the guy didn't come after all, if he hadn’t noticed the Camaro pulled along the curb on his way in. Turns out, Billy could blend in when he wanted to — if he didn’t wanna be found… all that wild ‘ _look at me_ ’ energy was something he could apparently just, turn off.

So Steve decided to stop trying so hard, had a solo cup filled with jungle juice and was just… heading to the basement. He'd been to enough parties at this house to know that no one went down there in the winter season, because there wasn’t any heat setup and it was fucking _cold_. But he had kept his jacket with him this time, and it was actually a bit of a relief to step out of the muggy atmosphere upstairs.

He reached out and felt along the wall for a light switch, sighing and giving up when he couldn’t seem to find one. Carefully picked his way towards the couch he knew from memory was down here, grinned in silent triumph when his shoes bumped up against it, turned and fell into the cushions with a huff. 

His eyes hadn’t really adjusted to the dark yet, so he just closed them and listened to the sounds of the party overhead, the dulled pounding of music and muffled voices. Raised his cup and took a sip of the mystery-mix of alcohol and punch, winced a little at the taste. The stuff was always so strong… probably could have used it to strip paint.

Steve knew he was acting crazy, chasing after someone who wanted nothing to do with him, who’d made it painfully clear they hated his guts. It was messing with his head, getting all mixed up in there and… he just needed to treat this like any other party, talk to some girl until he got that little flutter in his stomach and... and everything would fall right back into place again.

Which was _exactly_ what he was gonna go do... as soon as he finished his moping in the basement. 

The smell of cigarettes hit him just as a familiar voice bit through the calm, sharp and clear. Effectively destroying any hope Steve had of ever fulfilling that thoughtful and careful plan.

“What… you too good for the party?”

Steve startled, eyes flying open as he peered into the dark of the room. He could make out the shape of someone leaning against a nearby wall… the red glow of a cigarette just barely lighting up their features.

“Billy…?” Steve asked, and he sounded breathy — flushed instantly at how he could hear it in his own voice... that he sounded hopeful. It was embarrassing, and he was quickly met with the cool apathy that Billy seemed to easily mask himself with when he wanted to.

“Harrington.” He was watching Steve, a stare leveled at him from behind a plume of smoke. And Steve couldn’t quite read him, not in the dark — couldn’t properly make out his expression.

Maybe that could account for the words that came out of his mouth next. “I was looking for you.” Simple and honest, _too_ honest. Steve cringed at himself the second he’d said it, lifted his cup and swallowed down a punishing amount of alcohol. 

Billy just stayed silent, the ever so subtle creak of leather as he shifted his body towards Steve the only sound in the room, besides the pounding of blood in Steve’s head. And then Billy was pushing away from the wall, stalking forward and... lifting one heavy boot up on the couch, the chill of the rubber sole pressed against Steve’s thigh.

He leaned in, and Steve could see him better now… could see the curl to his lip as he sneered, the warning flashing in those harsh eyes. Billy took the cigarette from between his lips and held it, as he pinned Steve with his glare.

“Don’t.” Billy said, blowing smoke right into Steve’s face. His eyes watered from the burn of it, and he couldn’t help but try to blink the sting away — it felt like losing. “Don’t look for me, don’t talk to me, don’t even _think_ about me.” Steve swallowed hard, and Billy leaned in even closer… their noses almost touching.

He could feel Billy’s breath on his face, warm and damp. 

“Go back to your perfect little life.” He finished, patting Steve’s cheek condescendingly — a little bit of ash falling from his cigarette onto Steve’s shoulder. Then he was pushing away, his boot landing heavily back on the floor... and he was stalking towards the stairs that lead back to the party.

Steve stared, mouth hanging open around a response that wouldn’t come. It was ridiculous, that Billy thought he knew _anything_ about his life. Billy didn’t know any of the things Steve had been through, the way his life had changed ever since that night he set foot in the Byers house.

How things could never go back to perfect. How it never really ever had been, in the first place.

He was up from the couch before Billy had even finished ascending the stairs, ignoring his warning and chasing after him. Following him back into the crowded living room, watching as the guy shoved people out of his way… Steve nearly lost him in the sea of bodies, desperately trying to keep up. No one seemed to make way for him quite as eagerly as they did for Billy, and Steve got knocked around a bit; nailed his shin on a coffee table so hard that no one could blame him for the string of curses he uttered as he stumbled after Billy.

Steve caught a final glimpse of the guy heading up the stairs, right before he disappeared behind the landing. He hurried to catch up, breathing hard as he took the steps two at a time and, swore as he realized just how many rooms there were up here.

Billy could have ended up in any one of them, and Steve was already losing the will to keep searching after he’d checked the first room — only to walk in on a couple who were making use of the bed. The intrusion had earned him a shoe thrown his way, and he’d had to duck out of the way or risk taking it right in the face.

He skipped the rest of the doors, sighing and resigning himself to failure. Fuck Billy anyway, he didn’t even _want_ to find the guy… walked towards the end of the hall instead, figured he’d sit right down at the bay window down there and just… finish moping, since the asshole had so rudely interrupted him in the middle of it in the first place.

Which was a great plan really, until he got grabbed and shoved roughly into a room he was passing by. Steve yelped, tried to tug at the hands that were fisted into his shirt… wincing at the sound of a door slamming behind them.

“Billy-!?” Steve gasped, quickly taking stock of his surroundings… he’d been pulled into a bathroom, shoved him up against the sink cabinet. 

Now in the bright fluorescent lighting he could really get a better look at Billy, swallowed hard at the red button up under his leather jacket, which — might as well have had no buttons to begin with, considering the way the guy had it undone almost to his navel.

Steve caught a whiff of thick cologne… felt a little dizzy from it. Tore his eyes away from the split of Billy’s shirt to try and focus on his face. He looked pissed, lips curled into a snarl, eyes flashing and… Steve was actually kind of concerned, wondering if he was about to get the shit beat out of him.

“What… did I _just_ say?” Billy asked, his voice cool, controlled. The illusion of calm broken only by the way he jerked Steve forwards and slammed him back into the edge of the counter. Steve just winced at the pain cutting along his lower back, tried not to think about the bruising he would probably have there tomorrow.

“C’mon man, you think I’m gonna just listen to you like that?” Steve laughed weakly, trying to pry at the fingers wrapped tightly into his shirt. Everything Steve did just seemed to piss Billy off worse, and he pushed into Steve’s space, growling a warning that didn’t even register and... Steve froze, because Billy was so fucking close and— 

And he was hard _instantly_ , a humiliated flush creeping up from under the collar of his shirt. Billy had noticed, Steve knew from the way his expression flickered… an almost imperceptible blink of shock as it registered with him. 

“Just... just let me go, okay?” Steve tried, practically pleading with him. He wasn’t sure when he’d become the kind of guy who begged for things, when he’d stopped being the guy who made his own fate. Probably around the same time Billy strolled into Hawkins and knocked him straight onto his ass.

“You into this…?” Billy asked, ignoring him, cocking his hip forward until it was pressed against Steve’s thigh. His voice was rough and… Steve thought maybe Billy sounded into it _himself_ , which was just. Confusing.

“I said- _get off_!” Steve yelled, shoving Billy away. Sent him stumbling back against the bathroom door… Billy grunted at the impact, things on the shelves rattling as the walls shook with it. 

Steve felt like maybe he was about to die, that Billy was going to end him for that. But the guy just pressed his back against the solid wood, leaned all his weight to it and… lifted his hands up in surrender, as if to try and placate Steve.

“Woah now, relax.” Billy said, eyes still trained on Steve… a fire still burning in them, voice calming in a way that seemed insincere — like the devil trying to win your favor, right before he took your soul. “Just _relax_ , Harrington.”

Steve was about as far from relaxed as he could get, hands gripping the edge of the sink hard enough that his knuckles bleached white — heart pounding so loud he wondered if Billy could hear it. His dick straining against his jeans… still interested, despite the abject terror rolling through Steve’s mind.

Billy shifted his hips a bit, his hand coming down to adjust the front of his jeans and… Steve’s eyes followed the movement, caught the way Billy’s own pants tented.There was no excuse now, no way to say they’d been reacting to anything other than each other.

The same conclusion that terrified Steve seemed to give Billy a strange sort of confidence, chest rising and falling as he palmed at the bulge in his pants. It fit him, really... Billy diving in head first — not thinking about it, just doing what felt right in the moment. But Steve knew he could turn on a dime, that even if Billy wanted this now… there was no telling how he would see things later.

“Come on Harrington, you look like you’re gonna explode in your jeans.” Billy taunted, nodding his head to Steve’s crotch and — fuck it, Steve had no self preservation. He was looking away from Billy’s hooded lids, away from the way they made him feel… like his mind was swimming through syrup, thoughts thick and useless.

He fumbled with his button, zipped his pants down and breathed a sigh of relief as the pressure on his cock lessened. Steve kept his focus on himself, not quite ready to face the reality that Billy was right across from him as he did this... hands shaking as he worked himself free from his briefs. 

There was a subtle intake of breath from Billy as Steve wrapped his long fingers around the base of his cock, and he finally looked up again. Billy had undone his pants too, Steve wasn't sure when — hadn’t heard the sound of it through his own internal panic… hadn’t expected to see Billy’s hand squeezing around his own swollen length. The flushed head of his cock already leaking as he slid his fist down, pulling his foreskin back with it.

Steve’s mouth filled with saliva and it had him swallowing hard. He’d accidentally caught Billy’s dick out of the corner of his eye plenty of times in the showers... it was just one of those things that happened, no one _talked_ about it. But he’d never seen it like this. Never seen it filled out, throbbing with interest. 

He unconsciously matched the pace of Billy’s hand on himself, rolling his hips into the touch. “That’s it, pretty boy.” Billy said, and he sounded almost fond which… just so happened to be confusing and arousing all at once for Steve.

There was tension filling the space between them, an electric charge — neither of them wanting to cross the distance and risk breaking the spell. Steve felt flighty, on edge… waiting for the moment Billy would sneer, suck on his teeth and throw his head back on a cruel laugh. Waiting for him to call Steve names, to make fun of him for actually allowing this to happen. 

For giving in to... whatever _this_ even was.

And the real joke was that Billy could get away with it, too. Even with his hand on himself, even with the soft whine of pleasure floating on his heavy breaths. Billy could at any moment stop, and play this whole thing off and… Steve would crumble, and Billy would walk out like it was nothing — like he didn’t want this just as badly as Steve did.

It wasn’t enough of a warning for Steve to stop though, just had him dropping his gaze again. Sweeping his thumb over his slit, trying to slicken his movements with his own precum… figured just, focusing on the moment would help chase those thoughts away. Sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth and bit down hard to keep from moaning.

“ _Fuck_ -” Billy breathed the word, rough and quiet, like he hadn’t actually meant to say it out loud. And Steve couldn’t help it, he whimpered at the sound of it, his cock kicking in his fist and… it felt so fucking good, fear and arousal mixing until it was like his heart was going to pound out of his chest, legs going weak… he slumped more of his weight against the sink, slipping a little — one hand gripped to the edge like it was his only tether to this world.

Billy wasted no time... he was across the bathroom in an instant. Whatever sort of tentative respect for mutual destruction that had been holding them back, shattered by the overwhelming _need_.

He shoved his knee roughly between Steve’s legs, hiking it up until most of Steve’s weight was resting on him. Steve’s breath hitched, a moan dragging out of him at the feeling of contact — Billy’s body pressed hard against him, radiating heat like a damn furnace. And Billy dropped his head, pressed his face into the crook of Steve’s neck, panted hot breaths over Steve’s skin... lips brushing and sending a shiver running through him.

Steve was practically riding the guy’s knee, falling apart, mind reeling with the way Billy had started mouthing at his neck… working slowly up to his jawline, and Steve was mumbling insecure words that Billy quieted with a sharp bite to the tender skin there. Pushing his hips closer until the tips of their cocks were touching, knuckles bumping awkwardly into each other.

“ _Billy_ …” Steve whined the name, humiliated instantly by the sound of his own voice… the way he sounded needy. It was painfully reminiscent of the embarrassment he’d felt the first time he’d ever received a rushed handie, when he’d cum in under two minutes — the intensity of a first time driving him over the edge so much faster…

He was trying desperately now to keep his shit together, stroking himself slowly… trying to focus on not cumming first, or at least not too quick. He didn’t think he could live it down if that happened, and there was _no way_ that someone like Billy would let it slide if Steve finished prematurely. 

Steve squeezed the base of his cock and tried to breathe through it, tried to relax… focused on the tongue licking messily over his skin instead. Billy grunted, shifted them and — knocked Steve’s hand out of the way, growling as he fumbled to wrap his hand around the both of them.

“You gettin’ lazy on me, Harrington?” Billy grit out. Spoke the words directly into Steve’s skin, the coarse hair above his lip scraping lightly over the tender spots his teeth had marked.

Steve would have answered that, given some sharp, cutting remark but… but he couldn’t even _think_. All he could focus on was the rough drag of Billy’s hot palm on him, the contrasting chill of the ring he wore, and the feeling of the velvety soft skin of Billy’s cock sliding against his own. Steve babbled instead, mumbled words that probably would have meant something if he’d bothered to string them together in any sort of coherent way. ‘ _Please_ ’ and ‘ _Fuck_ ’ and ‘ _You’re so…_ ’ so everything, Billy was fucking life affirming in this moment…

His grip was tight in a way that had Steve leaking, almost like Billy wanted it to _hurt_. Steve’s head swam with it, spun out of control. Pain and pleasure mixing like a vortex, in a way he couldn’t quite come to terms with. Billy’s free hand trailed up from where it was locked onto Steve’s hip and instead tangled into soft brown hair, jerking Steve's head back until there was nowhere to look but into his eyes.

Billy was intense, his gaze burning — saying so much that Steve couldn’t understand, he couldn’t parse through that intensity… whether those eyes spoke of hatred or something more. 

He wasn’t sure how he held that stare, but he did.

And it took mere seconds of that, of Billy watching him like a specimen trapped under a lens… of that firm grip stroking over them, of Steve giving himself over completely. Giving himself to the reality that he wanted this so badly, that he’d never really felt pleasure until he’d felt Billy’s fist wrapped around him.

It was too much, he couldn’t hold back anymore — lost himself to it. He came like that, hips jerking, lips parting around wrecked moan, as Billy watched with that same sharp, attentive expression. Steve’s body shook with it, shock-waves of his climax wracking through him... and then his body went limp. Nothing but the knee between his legs, and the weight of Billy’s body pinning him to keep him upright.

Billy just untangled his fingers from the back of Steve’s hair, got a clumsy palm under his shirt and rucked the fabric up — released his grip on them, and pressed his cock against the soft skin of Steve’s stomach instead, rut into it. Steve was still kind of dazed from his own release, blinking a little bewilderedly as Billy trailed a sticky hand up from his hip to his face, smearing cum all over his chin as Billy pressed thick fingers to Steve’s lips and...

“Open.” He demanded, his voice harsh and breathy.

Steve considered the command for all of about two seconds... Then his lips were parting, and Billy’s middle and forefinger slipped in, his thumb hooking around Steve’s jaw. Billy’s fingers were coated in cum and… it tasted strange, not entirely unpleasant but- his stomach still gave a sick little swoop at the realization that this was _his own cum_ … on Billy’s fingers.

But most of him was running on instinct by this point, which… he wasn’t gonna analyze the fact that somewhere in his subconscious he had the instinct to _lick_ at whatever gets shoved in his mouth. Billy choked out a strangled groan as Steve cleaned his fingers, tongue slipping between each digit as if he was going for every last drop.

Billy’s hips jerked, lost their rhythm and his breathing got rough. He slid his fingers in and out of Steve’s mouth, pushed them all the way past the knuckle and hit the back of Steve’s throat... Steve gagged on them, swallowed desperately around them. Billy moaned like something was destroying him as much as it was putting him back together and... then his body tensed, his muscles so tight that Steve actually thought maybe he’d turned to stone. 

Then he seemed to shake apart, as he came over Steve’s stomach.

A moment of calm took over them, and Steve ate it up greedily. Silence, besides the droning thump of rock music drifting up through the floor — besides the huffing of their breath as they tried to fill their brains with oxygen again, tried to come back down from the stratosphere. 

Billy had slumped against Steve, like all his strength had left through his release and… now he was just _heavy_. It wouldn’t have been a problem except, the edge of the cabinet was actually trying to sever Steve’s spinal column right now and it was starting to get uncomfortable.

“Hey- uh.” Steve managed to get out, his own voice sounding weird to him. He shoved a little at Billy’s shoulder as he spoke, hoping the fact that he couldn’t seem to come up with any sort of useful verbal direction would be made up for by his movements.

Billy jerked away, pulled back so quickly that Steve almost fell to the ground — his legs still wobbly and barely prepared to be responsible for his own weight again.

“This was nothing.” Billy said quickly, there was a blink of fear in his expression… gone so fast that Steve thought maybe he’d imagined it, replaced by ice. Frozen over baby blue, cold enough to burn the skin of anyone stupid enough to try and reach out and touch him. 

“Bullshit this… this was-” Steve tripped over his own words, tripped over his own feet and hit the floor hard, knees cracking painfully as he landed, palms slapping against the tiles. “This was…” He tried again, looking up — on his hands and knees in front of Billy and...

Billy looked disgusted, a grimace splashed over his face as he tucked himself back into his jeans. Steve flushed and quickly moved to do the same, had never felt so fucking pathetic in his entire life as he did now.

“What, you thought I was gonna treat you like a chick?” Words that stung, Billy spoke them like they were a joke.

“Fuck you.” Steve spat out, tearing his eyes away and staring angrily at the tile floor.

“See now, here’s the thing Harrington.” Billy said, voice dropping low... a warning. “You might be one quickie in a bathroom away from going full bitch, but don’t for a fucking _second —_ ” 

Steve breathed in sharp, surprised when Billy suddenly stalked forwards and got a hand on his chin, fingers digging painfully into his jaw as Billy tugged his face up to look at him. “Don’t think for a second that I’m _anything_ like you.”

Silence haunted those words and… Steve just stared, held his ground in the face of Billy’s aggression. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he finally asked, hating the way his voice shook.

Billy just laughed, released his grip and pulled back and… just fucking _laughed_.

“You know what it means.” 

Steve shook his head. He wanted to believe that… that they were nothing alike. That he’d had never made anyone feel the way Billy Hargrove liked to make people feel, like fucking garbage _—_ but he had, he _knew_ he had.

Billy just turned his back on him, slammed the bathroom door shut so hard that he couldn’t help but flinch.

Left before Steve could tell him just how wrong he was.


	4. Sugarcoated

There was a lot of shit that Billy sat around hating himself over. The shit he did, the shit he _didn't_ do… the thoughts in his head that told him to break things. Thoughts that tricked him into wanting things he didn’t deserve.

Nothing quite as potent now, as the dizzying memory of Steve Harrington cumming into his hand. 

Of him leaving Steve there... the overwhelming panic and rage for his own vulnerability driving him to spit out cruel words as he left. The look of hurt on Steve’s face as he did it, slowly steeling itself into something stronger than that. It had him feeling sick as he turned his back on everything he couldn't face, as he slammed the door and left.

The heavy echo of his boots thumping down stairs, ears ringing like they were full of water. Tommy grabbing his arm, questioning him as he tried to leave and… the willpower it took not to wheel right around and pop him one in the face.

He couldn’t even remember what the guy had been saying. Just remembered shoving him off and breaking out into the cold night air, crumpling over and dry heaving into a bush until a considerable amount of alcohol and bile finally came up… then getting in his car and driving home. 

All that happened nearly four days ago, and it was still vivid in his mind as the best and worst night of his entire fucking life. Best because he’d gotten to touch Steve, gotten to see his face like that… twisted with pleasure, all because of what Billy was doing to him. Worst because he’d _ruined_ it, like he ruins everything.

It was all brewing under the surface, threatening to boil over and… it was a bad night. Neil was trying to watch the game, and Maxine was acting like a bitch — arguing with Susan about how she wanted to go to hangout with her stupid little friends tomorrow.

Which wouldn’t have been a problem normally… Maxine practically got anything she wanted. But tomorrow was Christmas day, and Susan hung all her self-worth on pretending like they were a real fucking family. And that meant spending Christmas together, painfully, all damn day long. Billy had already accepted his fate, but Maxine wasn’t having it. And Neil was getting pissed, he could see it getting worse and worse out of the corner of his eye. 

Billy was sitting in the kitchen, just trying to inhale Susan’s leftover pot-pie… because he’d been out earlier, missed dinner. Because he couldn’t fucking stand to be in this house any longer than he had to, so he always found a way to stay out… to linger somewhere. To stretch the time between home and somewhere else, to make the most of it. When he did get home, he’d started eating right away, because he didn’t think he could stomach going to bed hungry again. 

But now it was starting to look like that would have been the smarter choice... so he swallowed his last mouthful and got up, swiftly deposited his plate into the sink and paused. Trying to decide if it was safer to wash the dish, or to simply try and retreat to his room. Had no way of knowing which was more likely to get him into trouble.

And then it didn’t matter, because he’d taken too long deciding. Maxine had run off to her own bedroom, slammed the door and left a thick tension hanging in the air in her wake. Susan was just hovering in the living room, muttering softly about how she ‘ _didn’t know what had gotten into her_ ’.

“Someone in this family is setting a bad example.” Neil’s voice broke through Susan’s inane prattling, and she immediately fell quiet.

Billy’s palms were sweaty instantly, heart rate kicking up in his chest. He’d turned around, his back to the sink now, watching Neil as he continued to stare at the TV. “Dad.” Billy said, his voice cracked and he winced at the sound of it. He was conditioned to defend himself, already trying to plead his case with no more than a single, weakly uttered word.

Neil turned to fix him with a hard stare. “Where do you _think_ she gets it, when you can’t even come home for dinner on time?”

“Susan said it was fine.” Billy tried, his eyes never pulling away from Neil’s. Keep eye contact, one of the things he’d learned early on… one of the things Neil considered to be a sign of respect.  
  
“I said it was fine dear—” Susan’s simpering voice joined in, like background noise that neither one of them were really listening to.  
  
“No, he’s responsible.” Neil was up and out of his chair, the creak of the springs like a warning. “You’re old enough to be responsible for your actions, and staying out all night sets a bad example… doesn’t it Billy?” 

“Yes sir.” Billy grit out, trying to keep the resentment out of his tone without much success.

“And you chose not to come home for dinner, you _chose_ to disrespect the work Susan put into cooking this meal for us.” Neil was right in front of him now, had stalked across the room and had a finger jabbing in Billy’s face. “How do you expect your sister to respect anyone here, if _you_ don’t?”

Billy mumbled his response, not quite able to hold Neil’s sharp stare… trained his vision on the tile floor instead.

“What was that…?” Neil asked, and he knew then. That he’d already fucked this up beyond repair, that there wasn’t much point to trying anymore.  
  
“She’s not my sister.” He lifted his chin, made eye contact with Neil.

“Neil—” Susan’s warbling voice broke in, it grated on Billy’s nerves, had him grinding his teeth.

“Susan… go to bed.” 

* * *

Billy was tossed outside with a bloody nose and no jacket or keys, Neil drawing him close just long enough to give his final word. A sickening warmth ghosting over Billy’s face as Neil spoke—breath that stunk of stale beer. “Maybe spending some time without a roof over your head will teach you to appreciate the people who put one there.”

Then he was shoved into the snow, and the front door was slammed as Neil left him there. His body heat quickly melted the snow under his ass, water soaking into his jeans and leaving him feeling uncomfortable instantly. He still sat there for too long… his mind trying to catch up with what had just happened, waiting for the rush of adrenaline to fade away.

He knew what to do in California when Neil kicked him out with nothing. Find some park bench somewhere out of the way of trouble and sleep it off… and if he was lucky, Neil would let him come back in the morning. 

But this was Hawkins Indiana in the goddamn _winter_ and… Billy knew he could fucking freeze to death out here. He shakily got to his feet, thought for a minute about actually trying to break into his own car… before giving up on that train of thought and stalking down the same walkway he’d shoveled earlier that morning, heading who the hell knew where.

It was below twenty, and it took only minutes without any sort of shelter to have Billy shivering helplessly… teeth chattering as he walked faster to try and keep his body temperature up. He knew he couldn’t go to Tommy, not with the way his face looked, didn’t need the kid to start getting ideas… didn’t need a repeat of that moment in the Camaro with Steve.

Couldn’t stomach _anyone_ looking at him, with that kind of pity in their eyes.

And besides Tommy, Billy didn’t even think he knew anyone who would let him inside their house this late. So he just walked, didn’t really think about where he was going. Just steeped in bitter thoughts as if they could keep the chill away… He hated the way he had no control over his life. Every second at home was spent standing on unstable ground, waiting for it to be knocked out from under him, having no ability to break the fall no matter what he did.

Even if he managed to follow every single one of Neil’s ridiculous rules flawlessly… the man still saw through to the core of Billy, that he was wrong on the inside. And maybe Billy would have been able to say that was something wrong with _Neil_ instead, and not him — if it hadn’t come from his mother too. The sad way she looked at him, when he did something boys weren’t supposed to do. The way she’d tried to gently correct him and he just didn’t _get_ it… he’d driven her away, in the end. Because she’d known there was something wrong with him too.

That wrong in him was like a poison, it bled through and seeped into his words. Words that had a knack for getting him into trouble, and then he’d push things… until it became a fight. Because he learned how much he _wanted_ things to come down to violence. It was the only time in his life where he felt like his fingers were finally closing around that control he craved.

It was so good, fed him in a way nothing else could… until it wasn’t good anymore, and then he didn’t know how to stop.

And he was tired… so fucking tired. It was seeping out of him and making him sloppy, making him dumb and slow and… making him give in to things he never should have given in to. It just — it had been too much temptation, Steve Harrington in front of him like that… pupils blown with lust, his dick tenting his jeans.

Like Billy roughing him up was… like he fucking _wanted_ it.

Pushing him around had gotten Steve’s engine all revved up, had his body purring so sweetly for it. Billy would have called him a masochist, if it wouldn’t have been like throwing rocks in glass houses. Because as much as Steve dropped to his knees for pain, Billy did it ten times worse to himself.

Case and point, was the way his thoughtless wandering had taken him straight to Loch Nora… the way he’d found himself standing outside of a house he’d only heard of in stories. Parties he’d missed, with only the infatuated ramblings of one Tommy Hagan to fill him in on the details.

He wasn’t sure why he’d come here, it was like his entire body was on autopilot… carried him right into the belly of shame and regret, standing at the steps to Harrington’s ridiculous house. Identifiable by the sheer stink of wealth rolling off it like waves… and, maybe because Harrington’s BMW was parked in the driveway.

The windows were glowing with light from the inside and it seemed so warm and inviting, a wreath on the door because — _perfect_ , how could the house that the guy the entire school called a King lived in, be anything less than perfect.

Maybe he just wanted a little more abuse, before he lay down in the snow and froze to death. If it came from Steve, at least he fucking deserved it. So he took the last few steps up to the door and rang the bell, before stuffing his hands back into his jean pockets.

He thought he could hear the drone of a TV coming from inside, voices answering back and forth to each other. Wondered if rich fucks like Steve watched all the same garbage the dregs of society did.

And then Steve's mother opened the door and he… he froze, panicked a little. Because Tommy was always talking about how Steve’s parents were _never_ there, and he just… hadn’t really thought about it. The fact that it was Christmas Eve tonight, and that they would obviously make an exception for that. 

He’d never wanted to meet any of Steve's family, especially not when he was beat to shit, with his teeth chattering from the cold. Mrs. Harrington was flawless in the face of his own ragged appearance, beautiful despite her age, perfectly curled hair that seemed to defy gravity — he figured that was where Steve got it, then.

She wore a clean, classic style of clothing. Comfortable enough to lounge around the house in, but expensive enough that you _knew_ it was. The only thing throwing the whole look off was the bright red and green Christmas apron tied around her waist, clashing garishly with everything else. 

“I’m sorry but… who are you?” She asked with a subtle pinch to her nose. Like maybe she thought he might smell, but she was a little too well bred to make it _too_ obvious.

“I…” He was about to make some excuse, blurt out the words ‘wrong house’ and beat it out of there… didn’t care if it looked weird. But then he heard Steve’s voice echoing from somewhere deeper in the house and, before he could turn on his heel and run… the guy was stepping around a corner, coming into the entryway and hovering behind his mothers shoulder and—he looked surprised, staring at Billy’s face, mouth dropped open like a particularly attractive fish. 

Billy wiped at his nose, grimaced at the sting, the smear of blood on the back of his wrist when he let his arm drop.

“What happened?” Steve asked, blinking. Then it was like he remembered where they were, their current company, and he smoothly slipped into this… relaxed, effortless version of himself. Billy saw it before, saw Steve go into this mode around teachers or other authority figures… whoever Steve wanted to schmooze, but he’d never really seen the guy use it with _him_.

Probably because Steve never kept his cool very long where Billy was concerned, it was one of the reasons it was so damn fun to push him. But now, in front of his mother, it was like watching a machine flip a switch.

“Mom, this is Billy he — we’re on the team together.” Steve swiftly explained, hesitating for only a moment. He laid a gentle hand on his mothers shoulder, drawing her back. Making space for Billy to come in.

Billy stood unmoving on the stoop, couldn't seem to pull his stare away from the soft sweater Steve was wearing... it looked expensive, he wanted to bury his face in it and breathe in deep. “Come in, any friend of Steve’s is welcome.” Mrs. Harrington piped up, breaking Billy out of his daze. Her voice had softened, a gentle lilt to it now that she’d decided Billy wasn’t the bad sort — as if her perfect son could _ever_ make friends with one of them, right?

The thing was, he should have said no. He should have turned right around and left, shouldn’t have fucking _imposed_ … especially not after what had happened between him and Steve. But Billy was too stupid to learn, Neil had spent his entire life reminding him of that. So maybe it wasn’t his fault that he stepped into the Harrington’s house anyway.

Billy shivered as the warm air hit him, the smell of something amazing that somehow made it through his busted nose to get his mouth watering. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it... baked, who the hell knew what. Goddamn delicious he could bet, whatever the fuck it was. Then Steve’s hand was on his wrist, a burning heat against Billy's cold skin... covering the blood that was already drying there with thin fingers. Billy had the urge to shove him off, because his fucking _mother_ was right there and… and he didn’t want Steve touching him anyway.

But Steve was talking, voice calm, soothing. Telling Mrs. Harrington that he was going to take Billy to the bathroom and ‘ _get him cleaned up_ ’ — then they would be right back out to finish cookies and… Okay, so that smell was cookies.

Billy never had cookies that didn’t come prebaked, out of a bag covered in a bunch of annoying fucking elves. 

He let Steve lead him up the stairs, glancing out over the open concept living room as they ascended to the loft. Billy had never seen a house with this much empty space in it… was used to walls that felt like they were closing in on him, a room that was more like a cage than anything else.

The bathroom that Steve pulled him into was nothing like the one at the party and yet... he could think of nothing else now. Vivid memories that left him feeling ill and aroused all at once, had him trying desperately to keep his dick down through sheer willpower. 

“Sit.” Steve said stiffly, releasing Billy’s wrist and making a sweeping motion towards the toilet.

Billy didn’t like taking orders but— something about the knowledge that Steve’s mother was just down stairs, and that his father was probably somewhere in the house too... had Billy biting back his nature to be difficult about things, had him feeling out of place and strange. So he just slid past Steve to lower himself onto the lid like a good little boy, the only indicator of his distaste for it was the frown that seemed to permanently be etched onto his face.

Steve was pulling open a medicine cabinet above the sink and pushing things out of the way, the clinking of jars almost music-like in the hollow acoustics of the Harrington’s spacious bathroom. He swiftly got his hands on a first-aid kid, and closed the door again. Billy curled his lip, sneered at Steve as he set the kit on the edge of the sink and began to search through the contents. 

“I’m fine, don’t need that shit.” Billy grumbled. Steve just shot him a raised brow, unconvinced, before dropping his head again to continue his search. “Got through plenty of times without it.” 

And… he wasn’t sure why he said that. Why he actually admitted that this was a recurring thing for him. At least Steve didn’t act like he pitied Billy this time, didn’t look at him with those sad eyes that said ‘ _I'm so sorry_ ’ for something he could never understand. He just kept them trained on the task at hand, pulling a small bottle of antiseptic and a few bandages free from the kit, setting them on the edge of the sink.

“Don’t care if you… I’m still gonna help.” Steve finally said, changing his response halfway through. His eyes flickered to Billy’s face to take it all in for a moment... then he was looking away again, grabbing a hand towel from a bar hung on the wall, holding it under the tap as he turned the water on.

“Yeah? If you ask me… I think maybe you just wanted to get me alone in a bathroom again.” Billy said, a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes replacing his frown. Because he was a damn idiot who just… couldn’t help but poke at the bruise, make it hurt all over again. He saw the way Steve flinched at that, the anger flashing in his eyes and… his determination not to rise to the bait.

“Would you just shut up?” Steve muttered, suddenly getting too close — grabbing Billy’s chin without warning and… tilting it back, until he had a better angle to rub the damp cloth under Billy’s nose, cleaned away layers of both fresh and dried blood.

Billy bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from saying anything else. Winced when Steve moved from under his nose to his cheekbone… it must have broken the skin, when Neil hit him there, too. He hadn’t looked at himself in the mirror when they’d entered the bathroom, was reluctant to see the state he was in… the state Steve and his mother had seen him in.

But he knew it wasn’t that bad, because he hadn’t passed out in the snow where Neil had left him.

Then the cloth was gone and Steve was pouring antiseptic out onto a tissue and, Billy hissed a sharp breath between his teeth when Steve pressed it to his split skin. He instinctively pulled away from the sudden pain. “Get off!” He snapped, knocking Steve’s hand away and grabbing the tissue from him. “I’ll do it.”

Steve just sighed, rolled his eyes and gave Billy space… but still watched everything he did, like he didn’t quite trust Billy to do it right. Billy just scrubbed at his cheek, ignoring the way it stung worse with his own clumsy hand versus Steve’s, swiped once under his nose before tossing the used tissue onto the tile floor.

“Seriously…?” Steve muttered, face pinching up in almost the same way his mother’s had when she’d seen Billy at the door… and then he was grabbing at Billy’s chin again. He had half a mind to snap at those fucking fingers with his teeth but, he restrained himself. Steve carefully pulled the cut on his cheek together with two butterfly bandages, smoothing over them with his thumb — like he actually cared if it scarred over or not.

And Billy suddenly felt frantic, desperate for Steve to look at him… properly. For their eyes to meet and… to get some sort of assurance from him, that Billy hadn’t fucked this all up. That he hadn’t destroyed what little bit of care Steve might have had for him, beyond just his inherent good-boy nature.

“ _Steve_ …” His voice shook and, he couldn’t say any more… swallowed around an aborted admission of guilt. He felt raw, so exposed in front of Steve like this and every instinct told him to run, to get out before he did something stupid. Like tell the guy how much he fucking _needed_ him.

“I’m… I’m going down stairs and, I think you should take as long as you need up here— before following me.” Steve still hadn’t looked at him, sounded a bit like he was reciting something he’d been going over in his head… practiced. And then he was turning his back to Billy and leaving the bathroom, closing the door carefully on his way out.

And Billy… watched him go, listened to the soft padding of his sock-clad feet as he descended the stairs. 

Like the complete opposite... to that fucking cursed night. It had him laughing, quietly first and then… louder, throwing his head back and letting his voice echo off the walls. He felt like crying, like screaming in frustration or… just punching right through the fancy, soft coral hue drywall that Mrs. Harrington had for some reason decided to paint this ugly, fucking bathroom.

He wondered if they were just destined to cut each other to pieces, if every word Steve spoke was meant to slowly strangle the air out of him. If his own were sharpened like knives to dig in deep, to leave the only mark he ever could.

Getting up felt like cracking ice out of his joints, aches he didn’t even know he had hitting him as he began to move again— his face was never the worst of it, anyway. Still, he finally looked in the mirror, the bridge of his nose red and swelling, he could already picture how bruised it was going to be in the morning. A small cut on his cheekbone, Steve’s carefully applied bandages making it look like nothing. 

Not even a black eye... things were lookin’ up.

* * *

Billy wasn’t sure how long he’d really been in that bathroom, trying to pull himself back together. But when he’d finally left, when he started down the stairs… there was no sight of anyone in the living room. Warm strings of Christmas lights seemed to be the only thing casting light into the room, but he noticed a doorway off to the side that was bright, figured that was where he was meant to go.

He picked his way carefully through the Harrington’s living room, wondering if he should have taken his boots off, stepping around a plush white throw rug in the center of the floor. When he made it to the door, he peered around the frame first— just watched for a moment, didn’t want to make himself known yet.

Steve and his mother were leaning over the kitchen counters, rolling what must have been cookie dough into little balls and placing them carefully on a baking sheet. “You know, you can still invite friends over when we’re home.” Steve’s mother was saying, she had a glass of wine resting next to her as they worked.

“Billy’s uh… not the kind of guy you just, invite over.” Steve replied, sounding a little awkward about it.

“Oh really, and have you tried?” She asked, giving her son a pointed look. Raising a brow as she wiped her hands on her apron, grabbing her wine glass and taking a slow sip.

“… Not exactly.” Steve admitted, a flush hitting his cheeks.

And this was _weird_ , too weird to listen in on. So Billy cleared his throat, coughed loud enough for the both of them to turn and notice him. Steve made this choked, horrified sound and accidentally crushed the cookie he’d been forming.

“Billy! You have perfect timing.” Mrs. Harrington said, somehow managing to sound like she genuinely meant that. “Come make cookies with Stevie, this part is so tedious and I can’t drink my wine fast enough.” She moved out of the way in a swirl of skirts, winking at Billy as she waved a hand through the air to motion him forwards.

“ _Mom_ …” Steve groaned, flushing even darker. Billy just went where she’d beckoned him, not quite sure what it was about Mrs. Harrington that had him wanting to listen… it felt nothing like when Neil or Susan told him what to do. 

“Stevie…?” He said softly, under his breath… turning his head just the slightest to catch Steve’s embarrassed expression out of the corner of his eyes. 

“Shut up.” Steve mumbled, grabbing some dough from the large mixing bowl between them and rolling it between his palms. Billy just watched for a moment, it didn’t seem like much technique was called for — but he did take note that each cookie on the sheet was relatively the same size.

Easy, he could handle that.

"How long were you listening...?" Steve asked, his voice quiet enough that only Billy would hear.

"Long enough." Billy replied, flashing a sharp grin at Steve's mortified expression.

Billy just grabbed some dough and went to work beside Steve… their elbows brushing from time to time as they worked. Mrs. Harrington had settled herself at the kitchen island behind them, sipping her wine as she watched them. Whenever Billy glanced back at her she would smile, it felt practiced, he couldn’t tell if it was real or not.

It made him fucking _nervous_.

“So… Billy. Do you have a last name, too?” Mrs. Harrington finally asked, after they’d made it about halfway through the remaining cookie dough.

Billy tensed, and Steve seemed to watch him… nudged him gently with his elbow, contact that was on purpose now — nothing like the accidental way they’d kept touching earlier. It didn’t do much to help Billy relax, but it did have him answering.

“Hargrove, ma’am.” He said the words as neutrally as he could manage. “Billy Hargrove.”

“I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the Hargrove's…” Mrs. Harrington replied, sounding a little confused.

“They just moved here this year, Mom.” Steve explained, Billy had dropped his gaze. He refused to look at Steve, but he could _feel_ the guy watching him closely.

“Oh, well… we haven't been around much this year.” She said, sounding… she sounded far away, her voice going impossibly softer and… guilty, Billy thought. She sounded guilty.

Steve said nothing, just went back to rolling cookies. Billy wondered if maybe she was going to say something more, if she was going to apologize which — how fucking awkward could this night _get_ … but the oven alarm went off first, and an incessant beeping filling the room.

Then Mrs. Harrington was hurrying away from the island, never letting go of her wine glass and… holding her hand out for Steve, who sighed and rolled his eyes — grabbed an oven mitt and slid it onto her hand, so she could take out the finished cookies without ever having to set down her glass.

“Hurry and finish those so we can put them in.” She said, giving them a disapproving look. “You're making slow progress over here...”

“You saddled me with an outsider!” Steve protested, and Billy just growled at that.  
  
“Don't fucking blame me—!” He winced, the second the words were out of his mouth but... Steve just stared at him and, Mrs. Harrington laughed. _Loud_ , her voice filling the kitchen. It had Billy’s gut warming, a flush on his cheeks… it sounded so nice.

He would have gotten hit for that one, in Neil’s house.

Here, they just finished the cookies, and Steve slid the baking sheet into the oven… set another timer. Then he was pulling Billy to the kitchen island, and before he knew it he was sandwiched between Steve and Mrs. Harrington, rolling the finished cookies in powdered sugar and stacking them on a plate.

“My mother used to always make these — _that bitch._ ” Mrs. Harrington said suddenly, smiling at the sound of shock Steve made, winking at Billy.

“Mom… _jesus_.” Steve groaned, slapping himself in the face with a powdered sugar covered palm. When he took his hand away there was a little imprint of it left behind, Billy wanted to lick him clean. That… that probably wouldn’t go over very well in front of his mother.

“She would never let me eat one until Christmas morning, I used to sneak downstairs after midnight and steal half the plate and blame it on Santa.” Mrs. Harrington paused, holding a finished cookie in her hand and staring at it. “That was when the belt came out.” 

Billy froze, felt a little sick… dropped the cookie he was working on to stare at Mrs. Harrington. There was a spike of something bitter in the back of his throat and, he wondered if Steve had told her everything... or if she was just perceptive like that.

“Now she's dead,” She went on as if it were a casual thing, glancing at Billy and smiling. “And I eat all the damn cookies I want.” With that, she popped one into her mouth.

“You’re so embarrassing.” Steve said miserably from Billy’s left.

“Go on then, eat one.” She encouraged as soon as she’d swallowed her mouthful, going back to work covering the rest in sugar. Billy hesitated for only a moment, before bringing a cookie up to his lips and… carefully taking a bite, overwhelmed instantly by how sweet it was — by the way it melted in his mouth, buttery and amazing.

He had no idea what kind of cookies they were but, they were damn better than the shit those elves made. And then he realized Steve was watching him, eyes wide. 

“You have um… um.” Steve’s hand fluttered over his own lips, as if to help convey his point without actually saying it.

  
“You have ‘ _um_ ’ all over your fucking face.” Billy shot back, shoving his hand into Steve’s face and wiping away at the sugar. Grinning at the sputtering noise Steve made, the way he tried to bat Billy’s arm away.

  
“Get off— you— fucking _oaf!_ ” Steve choked out in between wheezing breaths and a laughter he couldn’t quite hold back. It wasn’t the most convincing demand, so Billy just kept tugging at Steve’s limbs… pulling his struggling body close until he could rub a whole handful of powdered sugar into Steve’s hair.

“Are you going to be spending the night with us, Billy?” Mrs. Harrington's voice suddenly cut in and he jerked away from Steve. The two of them peered guiltily back at her, she had a subtle little curl to her lips, a smile.

“Yeah.” Steve answered before Billy could, a little breathless. “Yeah, he is.”

The oven alarm went off again, a blissful distraction from either of them having to face the reality of the scene they’d just made right in front of Mrs. Harrington. And the next half hour was spent finishing the cookies, Steve’s mother telling Billy to ‘ _be a dear_ ’ and refill her glass multiple times.

By the time they’d finished with the second batch of cookies, Mrs. Harrington was making an exaggerated effort to yawn as much as possible.

“Right, well then— I’m off to bed now boys, but... I’ll see you two in the morning.” She said, smiling even warmer. Billy wondered why it reminded him of his own mother, because she’d always meant those smiles and… he couldn’t be sure if Mrs. Harrington really did.

Then she was getting Steve to untie her apron, cooing at him for being such a good boy and making him flush bright red again as he worked. She gave Steve a kiss on his cheek, and much to Billy’s embarrassment, she pulled him close and planted one on _his_ cheek too, before grabbing the rest of the half-drunk wine bottle and floating out of the room with it.

It felt weird now, alone in the quiet of this big house with Steve… the two of them standing awkwardly next to each other — Steve still holding his mothers apron, fiddling with the strings a little.

“Hey.” Steve suddenly said, Billy could barely meet his eyes.

“Hey what?” He asked anyway, trying to re-summon some of that cocksure attitude he prided himself on.

“We should… do you wanna go for a drive?” Steve asked. Asked in a way that actually made it seem like he thought Billy might somehow be able to say _no_ to that.

“Yeah.” He answered instead— without hesitation, easy fucking question.


	5. Promises, promises

Snow had started falling since he’d let Billy into his house, but it wasn’t enough for him to actually worry about the state of the roads. Still... It was cold out, and Billy didn’t have a jacket. So he turned the heater up high as soon as they got into his car, and reached over to press the switch that turned on the heated seats.

“Oh _wow_ …” Billy breathed out, sinking into his chair a little… humming like he was content, his legs splaying out as he melted into the warmth. Steve just, tried to keep his eyes forward... on the road. Focused on pulling out of the drive, and not the way that sound Billy had made had his dick waking up a little.

Still, he kept glancing out of the corner of his eyes to catch Billy’s hands sliding along the edge of the leather seats. His brows were pinched, like maybe he was comparing the feel of it to his own beloved Camaro. And Steve… he thought about those hands too much.

Thought about the way they’d _felt._ Wrapped around him, fingers thicker than his own and… how Billy had a ring on that night... kept remembering the cold bite of it on his skin, until the friction between them warmed the metal.

“Why do you wear so much jewelry?” The words were out of his mouth before he could really think them over, and the look Billy gave him made it obvious that it was the last thing he’d been expecting. “I just– it’s a lot, you know. For a guy.” 

Which wasn’t what he’d wanted to say. But, apparently tonight was just the night to stick his foot in his mouth… to accidentally imply that Billy’s jewelry was too _feminine_. 

Definitely not his best move.

Billy just laughed, sharp and singular, before looking lazily to the side and licking at the corner of his mouth. Watching Steve with a little glint of something smug in those eyes, like he _knew_ why Steve was asking. Which was impressive, considering Steve hadn’t even figured that one out yet.

“Well, _Stevie.._.” He started. 

“Don’t call me that.” Steve cut in quickly, and Billy paused… he seemed to be considering the pros and cons of continuing to mess with Steve tonight.

“Alright, then… Well, your _majesty_.” He amended, and Steve just sighed… rolled his eyes, tightened his grip on the wheel and repeated over and over in his head; ‘ _Try to get along, try to get along…_ ’

Billy’s hands were unbuttoning his shirt — or, to be more apt… un- _snapping_ it, because yeah. He was actually that much of a cliche, that he was walking sex enough to go commando most of the time and had a shirt that was built for easy access. Steve shouldn’t have found that hot but… he was shifting in his seat all the same, trying to subtly adjust himself. 

“This one.” Billy started, pausing to give Steve a chance to look. His chest was on full display and… Steve wondered if he actually waxed that or, if he just didn’t grow much hair there. He knew Billy had thick hair over his thighs, sometimes he found himself staring at it during practice and... he needed to stop thinking about that, too. Billy’s finger was pressing into the center of his chest, right next to his pendant of the Virgin Mother.

“Was my mom’s, she used to wear it all the damn time and–” Billy choked on his words, like he’d almost fell into saying something that he didn’t really mean to say. Steve couldn’t help but want more... he wanted to know all of Billy’s secrets, the things that made him so carefully cruel. “Well anyway, now it’s mine.” He finished, glossing over it and moving on.

Steve tried not to dwell on it, the little feeling of disappointment curling in his stomach. “This one.” Billy had pushed his curls back so that Steve could easily see the earring dangling there. “Had this done _just_ to piss off the old man, worked like a charm.” Billy grinned wide, but there was a hint of emotion swirling behind those blue eyes that suggested there might have been more to that story, too.

“Okay, what about the ring.” Steve prompted, because Billy wasn’t wearing it tonight and… a small part of him wondered why.

“The ring is… useful, leaves one hell of a mark behind.” Billy explained, that wide grin going sharp — dangerous.

“Oh.” Steve swallowed. Adjusted his grip on the wheel, and turned his attention back to the road. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t that. The conversation faltered after that, Steve didn’t really have it in him to try and keep it going and… Billy seemed happy enough to let it die, he turned back to staring out the passenger side window.

Steve thought about the split on Billy’s cheek, the one he’d bandaged up earlier that night and… how painful it had looked, that it seemed like something harder than just someone's knuckles had caused it. 

Couldn’t help but wonder, where Billy had learned that trick from. “So… Where we goin’?” Billy asked, after the silence between them had stretched for too long... after ten minutes of just snow outside the windows, and sleepy houses lit by nothing more than their multicolored strings passing by.

It was a good question, Steve wasn’t entirely sure where he _was_ taking them… he’d just had the plan to drive. To drive and drive until nothing else seemed to matter, besides the fact that Billy was here, sitting across from him and for once… acting like a semi-decent human being.

He wanted more than anything, for this Billy who was with him tonight to be the one he _really_ was, deep down under all that anger he was soaked in. But Steve wasn’t stupid, he knew part of this was… Billy on his best behavior, because he’d been caught off guard by Steve’s mother. That the truth of things probably lay somewhere in between, that the real Billy fell somewhere in the middle of all these different versions of him that Steve had seen.

It was almost like Billy was so unsure of what to do with Steve and… it made him defensive — ready to take on any perceived threat and settle it with violence. But he was warm too, smooth with his words in a way that made something flutter in Steve’s stomach and… sincere, even, at times. He didn’t know which of those versions of Billy to trust more. So no, Steve didn’t know where he was going... and he had a ticking time bomb in the seat next to him. 

It probably should have made him more nervous than it did.

Billy grumbled from the passenger side, sounded kind of put out and... and Steve realized he’d never actually answered the question. His lips parted, ready to mumble out some noncommittal thing — but Billy spoke before he could.

“Creepy.” He was still looking out the window, and Steve hadn’t even realized where he’d been driving them until now. 

The hulking exoskeleton of the new, half-built Starcourt Mall stretched out into the darkening sky above them and... he’d hit the blinker before he even really thought about it, turning into the parking lot. There was a fence that was supposed to keep people out, but the chains had already been cut. 

There wasn’t a lot to do in Hawkins, and it wasn’t all that unusual for kids to find abandoned parking lots to get wasted in. Construction had been halted until the snow melted, until the bitter chill left the air. The entire project was supposed to be done in time for Summer, and people hadn’t stopped talking about it since the land had been bought.

The metal scaffolding just made Steve feel a little sick, like big, sharp claws reaching up into the sky… blocking out moonlight and casting shadows all over the parking lot, sending them flickering over the car as he parked.

His discomfort must have shown on his face, because Billy snorted as Steve killed the engine, and he decided to ignore that judgement — reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes instead. Billy was watching him, eyes following every movement like a hawk, like Steve was his prey.

“Parliaments? That’s so…” Billy started to say, and Steve just shook his head.

  
“Don’t say it.” Steve cut him off, tone sharp as he found his lighter. “I quit so… I had to swipe these from Mom.”

“That what quitting looks like?” Billy asked, watching the way Steve lit the first cigarette and took a deep drag. He breathed it out, a sigh of smoke filled relief flooding the car. Then he glanced over at Billy, an eyebrow raised.

“I quit… except for very specific situations where I find myself trapped in a car with Billy Hargrove.” Steve bit back dryly. “Do you want one or not?”

Billy didn’t hesitate, stuck his hand out like he had any right to be impatient for it. Steve just lit the second one, passed it over to him, their fingers brushing as he gave it over. Billy seemed to let his own hand linger for a moment, the back of his knuckles rubbing against Steve’s palm before he finally pulled away.

“I used to be an asshole.” Steve said suddenly, turning away to watch snow fall onto the hood of the car — it melted instantly as it touched the warm metal. “I think I might have been as bad as you, actually.” 

Billy was mid drag as Steve spoke and he nearly choked on the smoke, hammered at his chest with his fist as he coughed to clear his lungs. “The _fuck_ you were! You’re all... sunshine and daisies— couldn’t be me if you _tried_.”

Steve just laughed and… it was real, his whole face scrunching up, he threw his head back, limbs went loose and relaxed with it. It felt good, he hadn’t laughed like that in a long time… not since Byers, not like he really meant it. 

It was weird how Billy always managed to draw the most genuine emotions out of him, the worst pain, the kind that stuck with him for days and days and never seemed to dull. Anger that was like he was going to shake apart, like he was going to lose control. A want like nothing he’d ever experienced, like it _hurt._ Like if he couldn’t touch Billy, he was going to wither up and die.

And happiness, maybe not before but… right now, tonight. It was like that, comfortable and warm and… he just wanted things to stay like this, wanted Billy to let him in enough, so that he could understand how he could _keep_ things like this.

  
“Okay… maybe not as bad as you.” Steve admitted, still smiling. “But I was an asshole and… I did stuff that hurt people. People I cared about.”

Billy seemed to stiffen in his seat at that, cigarette held tight in the hand resting on his knee. He was staring at the snow falling outside, breathing slow and careful… taking his time, as if he were trying to pick out words that wouldn’t make things worse.

“That… sounds familiar.” He finally said, and his knee was shaking now… bouncing up and down and he was raising that cigarette up to take another hit.

“Guess I just decided that… I didn’t want to be like that anymore.” Steve tried carefully, watching Billy’s face for his reaction.

“Was that easy for you, huh.” Billy said, the bitterness in his voice like a warning.

“No– it wasn’t… but I– I had patient friends.” Steve explained, smiling softly. He hoped he could convince Billy this wasn’t an _attack,_ if he just delivered those words carefully enough. Billy just scoffed at that, but Steve could see some of the tension melting out of his shoulders, so he soldiered on.

“I’m patient, too.” Steve insisted. It was kind of a lie, because he _wasn’t_ patient. He had a hard time waiting for things, always had — ever since he was a little kid. His mom sneaking downstairs to steal cookies... it was something that had been passed down the generations, just without the ensuing punishment.

In the morning his mother would kiss him all over and call him her ‘ _sneaky little Stevie_ ’ — which, if she ever said that in front of Billy he figured he’d actually die of humiliation. And then they’d open presents before his dad had even gotten up, because she couldn’t wait either.

But for Billy… Steve thought maybe he could do that. Thought maybe he could be patient for once, if that was what Billy needed.

“... What a saint.” Billy muttered, clearly unimpressed with Steve’s offering.

Steve just sighed, put the rest of his cigarette out in the tray set into his center console. Go figure that someone like Billy Hargrove would set to testing his resolve on that promise right away. 

“I’m not patient.” Billy went on to admit, turning in his seat until he was staring at Steve… eyes burning into him, so intense that he found it hard to hold his ground in the face of that heat

“No?” Steve questioned carefully, as if he hadn’t already known that about the guy.

“No.” Billy said resolutely, shifting forwards and… leaning over the center console, stamping his own cigarette out. “Tastes like fucking shit.” He announced, bringing his hand up and curling his finger… beckoning Steve forwards. 

To get closer.

Steve’s body moved on instinct, pushing itself towards Billy… one hand grasping the shoulder of his chair, to steady himself — the other carefully wrapping around the back of Billy’s neck. There was a hesitancy he felt when making a move on Billy that was so new and strange to him, he’d always been so confident with girls...

“Gonna need something sweet, to get that taste out of my mouth.” Billy went on, his lids going heavy as their faces drifted closer… his breath hitting Steve’s cheek, a stupid, self satisfied smirk on his lips.

“Wow, _smooth_.” Steve answered dryly, trying to ignore the way his heart did a little flip at that. He wondered if Billy used lines like that on everyone, wondered if it worked on them as well as it was on him.

“C’mon Harrington... head first now, don’t look back.” It was almost a whisper. Billy’s voice so soft as he spoke, words that could have just as well been meant for himself as they were for Steve. Then he was closing the last inch of distance between them, and Steve felt sparks as they touched.

He hadn’t kissed a lot of people in the last year. In fact, besides Nancy, there had been no one. But kissing Billy was nothing like kissing her, the thin slick of her strawberry chap-stick replaced by the rough drag of dry skin, the coarse hair above his lip scratching at Steve’s skin as he angled to deepen their kiss — always pushing for more.

And Steve just pushed back, his hands grabbing at Billy shoulders... as much an excuse to anchor himself, as it was to try and regain some control. Billy gave no ground, opened his mouth and licked at Steve’s lips until they parted on instinct for him. Billy's teeth scraping lightly over the bottom one, pulling it into his mouth and sucking, right before he bit down sharply. Steve gasped at the sudden sting of it, his breath hitching, and Billy took advantage of the moment to thrust his tongue in.

Billy tasted like cigarette smoke and too-sweet confectioners sugar, like danger and temptation mixing together until Steve couldn’t tell the difference between them anymore. He let it pull him in, let the sensation wash over him and... it was like drowning, like his lungs were burning and he never wanted to come back up. 

He couldn’t quite hold back the moan that slipped out of him, as Billy dragged the flat of his tongue against Steve’s own, slow and deliberate. Like he was savoring it, like every single moment spent crawling inside of each other was precious. He traced the line of Steve’s teeth, mapped every inch of Steve's mouth like he was committing it to memory.

It felt like an admission, like Billy knew things were going to go wrong… that he might not get another chance, the thought of that alone had Steve’s heart clenching painfully… had him tugging and pulling and doing everything in his power to keep Billy close.

It was almost too much, he could feel his own desperate edge spilling over as he clung to Billy’s shoulders — the only thing keeping him upright, steady.

Then firm hands were on him, sliding up under his shirt and curling around his waist. Tugging at him as if Billy wanted to erase the distance between them just as badly as he did. Steve answered by tangling his fingers in Billy’s hair until he hissed at the sting, snarling against Steve’s mouth and shifting in his seat, cursing as he pulled away, broke the kiss.

Steve was dazed, swayed forward as Billy went, jerked himself back when he realized what he was doing. Billy was swiping the back of his hand over his mouth — clearing away spit and... Fear hit Steve in a rush, like maybe that was it. That Billy had just come to his senses and act two of ‘ _denying everything_ ’ was about to play out.

“Just– just gimme a second.” Billy huffed, leaning back in his seat. His breathing was heavy, he had a palm resting high on his thigh and… Steve’s flushed as he realized Billy was hard in his jeans. 

“I can…” Steve started to say, not quite able to tear his eyes away from the thick outline of Billy’s dick in his pants, the way it rested heavy over his hip. It was so damn _obvious_ without the extra layer of fabric to help conceal the shape of him... Steve wondered if it would be weird to give him underwear for Christmas.

Billy just laughed, a bitter edge to it as glanced over, locked eyes with Steve. “You sure you wanna do that, pretty boy?” Steve frowned at the familiar nickname, felt like maybe they’d slid backwards… lost progress, somewhere. “I haven't even apologized for last time yet.”

“Were you gonna?” Steve pressed.

“Maybe.” Billy said, a wry grin on his face as he spoke the words. 

Steve just frowned… watched the way Billy turned back to stare forlorn at the snow falling and… he was annoyed now. Annoyed that Billy was gonna bring something like that up and then just… what, drop it again?

Patient though, he said he would be and… he was already failing at that. 

  
“Fuck it.” Steve said, suddenly clambering over the center console.

  
“Jesus— _Harrington_!” Billy was sputtering, and Steve was pretty sure he’d knee’d Billy in the crotch from the grunt of pain the guy made as he tried to turn around over him and… “Would you get off... the hell are you doing?!” Billy was complaining, voice rough as Steve felt along the side of the chair and—

Then there was the ratcheting of a chain and, the chair slid back, gave them enough room for Steve to move and settle on Billy’s lap. It still wasn’t the most comfortable position, Steve was hunched over to keep from pressing his perfect hair into the roof of the car, his knees resting on either side of Billy’s thighs.

They felt solid under him and... he had to pull his mind away from that, from getting caught up in how stupidly _safe_ that made him feel. “The fuck are you doing.” Billy said again, voice much steadier now that he didn’t have Steve’s limbs flailing in his face and jabbing him in the soft bits. 

Well, _maybe not so soft_ , Steve thought.

“What’s it look like I'm doing?” Steve asked, arching a brow. Boldly working open the buckle of Billy’s belt, the sound of metal clinking softy as his fingers fumbled a little with the clasp.

“ _Looks_ like your last brain cell just gave up.” Billy snapped, his tone overshadowed by the flush rising under his freckles.

“Yeah? Want me to stop?” Steve asked. Maybe he sounded smug, _maybe_ he sounded like he already knew the answer.

“Hell no.” Billy huffed out, his tongue running out over his bottom lip as he settled back into his seat, the leather creaking ever so slightly. Steve just smiled to himself, finished working open Billy’s jeans and shoved his hand in, carefully pulling Billy’s cock free. He marveled a little at the heavy weight of it in his palm, he’d been lamenting over the fact that he hadn’t touched Billy enough last time.

Felt like maybe this was his chance to make up for that.

Billy just sucked in a sharp breath, hissing through clenched teeth as Steve’s fingers curled around him. It wasn’t like Steve didn’t know what to do but… it was awkward with the angle changed around and — he started slow. Took his time to feel things out, sliding his hand up the length and trying to find a smooth rhythm.

He stared a little, transfixed by how flushed the tip of Billy’s cock was, the way it weeped precum when Steve squeezed just a little harder on an upstroke.

“ _Fuck—_ _Steve_.” The words were heavy, and Billy spoke them like it took something out of him to do it. “It’s not rocket science.”

Steve’s eyes flicked up to take in Billy’s, the hazy way he was watching Steve’s face. Like he was more interested in that, than his dick disappearing into a fist. It was a lot to handle, that look… felt like something heavier than just two guys messing around. 

“Don’t be an ass, I’m doing you a favor.” Steve huffed out, trying to ignore the way that Billy was looking at him.

“Gimme your hand.” Billy’s voice was rough, scratchy with smoke and lust and it sent a little shiver running along Steve’s spine… arousal pooling in his gut. He just made a sound of confusion, because his hand was kind of _busy_ here. And he must have actually announced that out loud, because Billy was rolling his eyes right before taking it upon himself to snatch Steve’s hand away from his dick.

Brought it up to his face slowly, and licked once… twice, in wide stripes over Steve’s palm. Then he was shoving it back down, encouraging Steve’s fingers to curl back around him with his own. “S’better.” He mumbled, rolling his hips into Steve’s touch, jostling him a little where he sat perched over those muscular thighs. 

Billy’s eyelids fluttered shut as his breathing grew harsh, as Steve’s stroking grew confident, picking up the pace. And Steve had to swallow hard… his own jeans were painfully tight, the pressure almost unbearable as his cock throbbed against the seam of his cotton underwear.

Watching Billy slowly come apart under his grip like this was almost too much. A moment of power, of all that rage and hate bending and breaking under his fingertips. A muzzle to Billy’s snapping teeth, a gag to all those infuriating words that liked to spill from his lips. Steve knew it wouldn’t last long but… damn if he wasn’t going to enjoy it while he had it.

Breathy moans crawled their way up from deep in Billy’s chest, like he was just so used to holding back, muffling whatever sounds of pleasure he might make. It felt a bit like a challenge, and Steve wanted to pull more out of him, make him forget about every single instinct that kept him held down like that.

“C’mon, Billy.” Steve murmured the words quietly, they still somehow managed to sound too loud in the cramped cabin of the car. He leaned forward, until he could feel Billy’s breath on his face. Those blonde lashes flicked up, dreamy blue eyes focusing on Steve’s face. “Show me what you got, hot shot.”

Billy growled something unintelligible, his expression flickering from that passive, almost _docile_ haze he’d fallen into, to something more familiar. Something like heat and danger and... that crazy intensity that Steve had never seen in anyone else's eyes before. He felt a shiver run through him as Billy grabbed his ass, fingers digging in as he pulled Steve closer — mashing his knees uncomfortably into the leather seat back behind Billy.

Not that Steve gave a shit, his grip was fumbling now and Billy was jerking his hips up into it... breathing harsh moans each time the head of his cock squeezed through Steve's fist. The slick sound of skin on skin filling the space around them, the precum leaking from Billy’s slit spreading and adding to the obscenity of it.

To the easy glide, making everything so smooth and — Steve caught the moment on Billy’s face, where he lost himself to it, slipped over the edge. The way his brows pinched together like he was in pain, the way he pulled his bottom lip into his teeth and bit down hard, as if every inch of him was fighting against _enjoying_ this.

Steve just leaned forward until his lips were brushing Billy’s cheek, just barely touching, and softly whispered his name. Billy came in Steve’s hand, a moan punching out of him like he wasn’t expecting it. Cum hit his chest where his shirt was still pulled open, and Steve worked him through it, slow, deliberate strokes… heat pooled in his belly when he felt a final, weak spurt of cum dripped over his knuckles.

Billy let out a heavy breath, lay back into the leather seat like he was boneless. He looked almost… _peaceful —_ the most at peace Steve had ever seen him. There was no way that was gonna last, so Steve figured he better make the most of it… hastily worked at the front of his own jeans, trying to free himself so he could just… just get some damn _relief_.

“Hey.” Billy’s voice was rough, heavy with his release and the effort of holding back moans. Steve ignored him, struggled with his zipper like he’d forgotten how pants worked. “ _Hey_.” Billy repeated himself, tone sharp now and— Steve’s head snapped up, took in the annoyed look on Billy’s face and felt his stomach sink. “The fuck are you doing?”

Steve just made an exasperated sound, motioning at the bulge in his pants. He was so keyed up, so desperate for it, it fucking _hurt_ and Billy was dragging this out and he just… “C’mon Billy, just let me— I’m gonna lose it here.”

Billy’s breath left him in a growl, one that had Steve’s cock kicking in his jeans… a little wet spot bleeding into the fabric and, yeah… Billy saw that, it was fucking humiliating. And then he had Billy’s hands on his thighs, shifting and pushing him. It was like a role reversal, as Steve’s arms flailed, Billy shoving him back into the driver side seat.

He landed sideways, on his ass — his head landing just a little too hard against the icy chill of the window. His long legs hung clumsily over into Billy’s side of the car, one tucked behind Billy's back and the other dangling awkwardly into his foot-well. “What is— what are…?” 

Steve was practically incoherent at this point, watching as Billy shifted in his seat and turned, dragged the palms of his hands up Steve’s thighs until they were too close to his dick for him to think anymore.

“You ever stop fuckin’ yammering?” Billy asked, his eyes flicking up to look at Steve. Sharp, focused... a kind of determination sparkling in them.

“Nope— no. Oh man what are you…? _Oh man_.” 

Billy had leaned down, ignoring Steve and… his fingers were working down that zipper that had been giving Steve trouble without so much as a single hitch. Smooth and calm, Billy drew Steve's cock out of his jeans. Gave it a perfunctory stroke before lowering himself enough to get his mouth closer.

Parted his lips, flicked his tongue out over the head to lick away a drop of precum that had been welling up at the slit. The sound Steve made was embarrassing, Billy’s name, forcing its way out of him, tangled up in a moan. His knees kicked up — bracketing Billy’s shoulders, his foot landing hard on the passenger side door. He leaned his weight into it, slumped further into his seat.

He felt the huff of air from Billy, as he laughed. Felt it brushing over the head of his cock, warm and damp — it had his hips jerking up against his own will. Had him thrusting his cock along the side of Billy’s cheek, leaving a wet smear over his skin. Billy just snarled, dug his nails into Steve’s thigh and held him down.

“You don’t move, got it?” Billy warned, looking Steve in the eyes one last time, seeming satisfied with the hurried way Steve nodded his head — before ducking down and pressing his lips to the head of Steve’s cock, letting it push its way in and… he took Steve down like he’d done it before, where the _fuck_ had Billy Hargrove done this before?

Steve whimpered, because it was too warm, too slick and soft and Billy’s tongue pressed firmly against the underside of his cock and… this wasn’t exactly his first time getting a blowjob, but he knew he was _acting_ like it was. He could feel Billy grinning around him, and then he pulling off again.

Maybe he had a death wish, because one of his hands landed heavily on Billy’s hair — his fingers tangling into those curls and urging him back down, his other hand pressed into the windshield, leaving marks all over the heat fogged glass. 

Billy just grunted, actually let Steve get away with that. He took Steve back down with too much force. All wet, forceful sucking and a tongue that laved over every inch of him, and then he was pulling up again...

“Teeth! Billy, fuck— watch the teeth!” Steve gasped, thighs tensing as the sharp edge of them scraped lightly over his swollen length. 

He popped off to grin at Steve, making sure to show off those pearly whites like a warning. “You watch the _hair_ , and I won't chomp your precious dick off.” Steve promptly untangled his fingers, allowing for his hand to simply rest on Billy’s head. He had a strange urge to pet the guy, as if that somehow might translate into ‘ _okay, please don't chomp my dick off._ ’

Billy flicked his tongue out, circled it around the tip of Steve’s flushed cock before he dragged it back down the length. Steve felt saliva pooling on his balls, and it should have been disgusting but there was something so hot about the fact that Billy was drooling all over him like that.

He knew he wasn’t gonna last long like this, that he was mere seconds away from losing it. He wasn’t even embarrassed about how quickly it was gonna be over, because who the hell could’ve held it together with Billy treating them like this… like he’d been waiting for this, like getting his mouth on Steve was a dream come true.

Billy took him deep, and he felt the tip of his cock hit against the back of Billy’s throat and, he could _feel_ Billy swallowing around him. Steve’s thigh muscles spasmed under Billy’s grip, and he wanted to hold Billy down like that, make him stay there. But... even in his sex-fogged brain he remembered that warning, cutting through his haze like a knife. So he just scrubbed his fingers over Billy’s scalp… slowly, carefully — and Billy moaned around him.

It was too much, the proof that Billy was enjoying this just as much as he was vibrating through him… “Billy— I’m gonna c—” He got half the warning out, his body tensing as he tried to choke the words out fast enough. Billy just hummed at that, encouraging almost... and Steve instantly shot off into that perfect mouth.

His eyes screwed his eyes shut, and he saw stars behind the lids. He knew he was fisting his hand into Billy’s hair now, knew he was tugging too hard. It didn’t even matter at this point, if he died after this… he wouldn’t even care, it was one hell of a way to go.

There was nothing now but the shock waves of pleasure rolling through him, the weak jerk of his hips against Billy’s weight still holding him down. And then Billy was pulling off, grumbling as Steve pulled at his hair... finally getting enough sense to loosen his grip and set Billy free.

Steve opened his eyes slowly, watched as Billy sat back up and — grimaced, right before spitting Steve’s load out. Cum and saliva hit the dashboard, the creamy white of it standing out stark against dark mahogany.

“Oh, gross man! What the hell?!” Steve managed to complain, watching in horror as the glob of his own cum slowly rolled down the surface.

Billy just grinned, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Sat back in his chair and took a deep, satisfied breath. Steve was too fucked-out to bother — to find the tissues stashed somewhere in his car and reach over Billy to wipe the mess up… so it would just have to wait. He closed his eyes for a moment instead… let his breathing find its way back to normal.

They were like that for a while, Steve wasn’t sure how long… didn’t want to open his eyes and break the spell, was enjoying the peace of it. That Billy hadn’t freaked out yet, nothing like the first time they’d gone too far.

“I’m sorry…” Billy said, suddenly cutting into the silence. Steve jerked up, he’d almost drifted into sleep and — wasn’t entirely sure he’d actually heard that right.

But the shame was so clearly there on Billy’s face, and Steve felt his heart twist up with it. Was tripping over himself to try and tell Billy it was okay… even when the things he’d done _weren't_. “I didn’t know how to handle this…” Billy went on, before Steve could say anything. Motioned between them, a lazy flick of his hand. “Still don't.” he admitted, a rueful smile on his face as he finally turned to meet Steve’s bewildered stare.

“I… neither do I.” Steve said, shaking his head… and, nervous. He felt so fucking nervous. “I’m not even… I don’t…” He paused, took a deep breath and tried to steady himself. Billy gave him the time he needed, watching as if he knew what was coming and had already accepted it. ”You make me feel like… like this is going to hurt. Like you’re cutting me open to show me who I really am inside and then — then you’re going to walk away and leave me to deal with this shit all alone.”

Those words hung in the air, the weight of them enough to bruise… Billy looked like he didn’t know what to do with them, like maybe he would have been happier never knowing that. 

“...I can’t tell you what you want to hear.” Billy finally responded, looking bitter and disappointed and all the things Steve didn’t want to see in his face.

“What do you think I want to hear?” Steve asked, tapping his shoe against Billy’s shin lightly.

“That I wont run, that I wont fuck this up that… that I can treat you like you deserve.”

“Billy... I know who you are, I know you can’t promise that.” Steve said, sighing as he started to pull his legs back and shoving them down into his own foot-well. “But… you never quite do what everyone expects you to, so I think we might be okay… if we try anyway.” Steve finished with a stupid grin on his face, because this whole thing was stupid — giving his heart over to Billy Hargrove was probably… no, _definitely_ the stupidest thing he’d ever done.

But it felt damn good doing it, and he was more than ready to face the consequences.

Billy just looked at him like he was an idiot, like maybe he thought he’d sucked the last of Steve’s brain cells out through his dick moments earlier.

Steve looked away, caught the digital clock on his dash flicking over the numbers. It was already past midnight, and the realization shocked Steve a little. “Oh, Merry Christmas.” He said softly. The cold was finally starting to seep into their quiet little closed off world, but Steve wanted to put off starting the car again for just a moment longer…

“Didn’t get you shit.” Billy grumbled, reaching over to snatch up the pack of Parliaments and wrestle out another cigarette, despite having done nothing but bitch about the taste of them. He lit up using Steve’s lighter, taking a second before speaking again. 

“Fuck it, Merry Christmas.” It was muttered like it didn’t matter. But Steve still couldn’t help the feeling rising up in his chest as he keyed the engine on, as he finally pulled away from the looming Starcourt Mall and drove home.

Like maybe, even with all the shit the two of them were struggling to work through… that things were going to turn out okay.

**Author's Note:**

> ❄️ Happy Holidays ❄️


End file.
